


The Trouble with Vulcan-Human Hybrids

by quantumgirl



Series: Vulcan-Human Hybrids [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumgirl/pseuds/quantumgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story in which Spock and Kirk meet their future children when accidental time travel happens. Future Spock and Kirk have twin children, a son and daughter, who each take after their parents in unique ways. After a bit of an accident, the two children are thrown into an Enterprise where Dad and Father are still only coworkers, learning how to get along with each other.<br/>......</p><p>“He’s got hobgoblin blood, too.” McCoy shook a vial of green blood for them to see.</p><p>Kirk had finally set the PADD down, at the foot of Spock’s hospital bed. “So he’s half me and half Vulcan?” Kirk’s eyes flicked over Spock’s face. “Is this a joke?”</p><p>“I was going to ask you that,” McCoy shrugged at Jim. “You have yourself here a Vulcan-Human hybrid...a Vulcan-Kirk hybrid.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story starts out in the future before ~plot~ happens, and we get to current day Spock and Kirk.

“You know, when I said you should behave more like a Kirk, this wasn’t what I had in mind.” Amanda T’Karik Kirk was looking down at her twin brother with a bemused expression. 

The boy in question was underneath the transporter console, wiring something of his own creation into the system. He stopped what he was doing and slid out from beneath the console just enough to look up at his sister. 

“I have gathered from your previous dalliances that you simply mean I should break Starfleet protocol more often. Currently, I am breaking at least three subsections. Why is this insufficient?” He quirked a blonde eyebrow at her. 

If Dad were here, he would have yelled ‘Stop it, Selik, you look too much like Spock with my face when you do that. It’s weird.’ Her brother was often referred to as Kirk’s miniature, and perhaps that was why he clung so hard to the Vulcan parts of him that remained largely hidden from sight. 

“I meant that you should do something fun, Selik.” She raised an eyebrow of her own. “You know, meet up with that pretty Orion chick you always stare after? Something like that?”

Selik flushed green. He might favor the Kirk side physically, but he still had the Vulcan blood. 

“I prefer my experiments, Amanda.” Selik slid back under the console, obviously hiding his emotions. 

“Neither Dad nor Father are here, Selik. We can talk about whatever we want. You can talk about your crush.” Amanda perched herself on a nearby table and pulled out her PADD. While she thought Selik’s attempts at being more rebellious were weak, she would still monitor the hallways for him. 

“I would like to converse about this experiment. What are your thoughts?” He kept working, his voice obviously chiding her for her frivolity. 

“You’re trying to make transport more efficient and accurate, right?” She asked, acquiescing to his desire to change the subject. 

“Yes, I believe I can make it capable of handling targets who are experiencing high velocities relative to the planet frame of motion. Or targets who experience a sudden change in velocity.“

“So, exactly what they needed to have saved Grandmother on Vulcan?” Amanda asked, jumping to the obvious conclusion. 

“Yes, ” Selik paused. “I believe Father has avoided researching transport devices as he finds himself emotionally compromised when working with them. Even now.” Selik’s voice betrayed that he found this thought illogical. 

“You don’t think you would be emotionally compromised if one of our parents died?” She started playing one of the downloaded games on her PADD. No one was going to come to the transporter room at 0100 Terran time; she needn’t stare at the hacked security feeds. 

“I would mourn for an appropriate amount of time.” 

Amanda shrugged, not taking her eyes off her game. “But I mean, Father can leave transport research to other people. Like you. Why research the thing that reminds you of losing your mother?” 

Selik was silent for a while before nodding and returning to his work. 

They were like that for around 20 minutes: Selik hard at work while Amanda played her PADD games.

Amanda let loose a stream of Vulcan curse words when she failed the level she reached. And she heard her brother hit his head as he jerked to see what was wrong with her.

When he realized what she was angry about, he rolled his eyes. “I do not understand why you waste your intellect on those silly games.”

“They’re fun.”

“You have an eidetic memory and nearly perfect scores in all of your classes.”

“I also enjoy shooting evil space pigs. So what?”

Her brother opened his mouth to retort, but then thought better of it and ignored her again. 

Amanda smiled, going back to her game. 

At around 0200, she got a message on her PADD.

_Hey gorgeous, what’re you up to?_

She looked over at Selik and then quickly back down to her PADD, willing her body not to react.

_Hanging out with Selik. Why are you up?_

She stopped her game and started tapping her fingers in anticipation of a response.

_Can’t sleep. Wanna come to my quarters? Dad has an emergency in the Med Bay, and Mom’s working on an experiment. So they aren’t anywhere near here._

Her heart skipped a beat in her side. She was fairly certain she was grinning stupidly, so she wasn’t exactly be surprised when she looked up from her PADD to find Selik staring at her with a disappointed expression. 

“What do you want?” She asked him sharply, while also responding,

_Be there in 10._

“Is that Noah McCoy?” 

“So what if it is?”

“Are you going there now?” He ignored her question.

“So what if I am?” 

" _Amanda_ ,” Selik’s voice betrayed emotion. “You should not.” 

“Why?” 

“Father and Dad would not approve. I imagine Uncle McCoy would be similarly upset.”

“I certainly don’t care.” She hopped off of her table and started walking away. “They don’t control my life.”

“Amanda, please.” Selik was standing now, watching her with careful eyes. “Father would be very upset. You are young and Vulcan. Emotions are—”

“Don't tell me what to do. My emotions are completely under my control,” she paused at the door, watching her brother with a challenge in her voice. 

“When was the last time you meditated?” He sounded like their Father. 

“Last night.” 

“You are lying.” 

“Vulcan’s don’t lie,” she countered. 

“We are not completely Vulcan. And you are lying. You should cease engaging in physical contact on a regular basis with those who are not your family or your intended spouse. It is unhealthy for a young Vulcan mind. Especially as you do not maintain your mental shields appropriately.” 

“What do you know about shields?” she spat. 

Selik’s face twitched, and he looked down. 

She regretted it immediately. She had not asked for strong Vulcan telepathy or an almost entirely Vulcan mind. Just as Selik had not asked for a nearly Human one. 

Selik raised his head again, his emotions hidden now. 

“Fine. Go. You would obviously know better than I.” He turned back to the console.

She considered staying and apologizing but decided to let him be. Selik would be fine. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spock shook Jim awake with a gentle touch to his shoulder. Jim, who was sleeping with no shirt, felt the telepathic touch and woke almost instantly. 

“Wha--? Spock? What’s up?” He sat up, rubbing his hand over his face. “What time is it? Did I sleep through my alarm?”

“It is 0322, Jim.” Spock was sitting on the bed, his back ramrod straight. He was wearing his relaxed clothing that he only wore in their quarters. He had obviously been meditating.

“Why’d you wake me up?”

Spock hesitated, his eyes dancing over the wall before settling on Jim. “I am unsure if I am being too protective, but our children are both blocking me from their minds.”

Jim ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t you pretty much always maintain a bit of distance from them? They need to have their own privacy.”

Spock nodded shortly. “Yes. However, I am usually aware of their general state of being. However, it seems Amanda’s link is almost entirely blocked. And Selik was upset before I stopped being able to feel his link as well.”

Jim hesitated. The whole telepathy thing was something he never completely understood about the rest of his family. He had a strong bond with Spock, of course, but the ones with his children could only be accessed via Spock or via touch. 

Spock continued when Jim did not respond. “I mostly find myself concerned for Amanda, Jim. I do not believe she is properly taming her mind.”

“Can’t you just go check into her mind? You know, knock on the door and ask what’s up?” Jim shrugged. 

Spock nodded, taking a deep breath. He settled onto the floor near the bed, into a loose meditation pose. 

Jim smiled, watching Spock’s face relax and then—

Spock suddenly stiffened. His back jerked to its full height and his nostrils flared. When his eyes opened, Jim could see an emotion burning. 

“She is with a male.” Spock’s voice was low.

Jim’s jaw dropped. “She’s WHAT?” 

“She is currently engaging in—” Spock stopped speaking and stood, abruptly striding to the door. 

“Engaging in what, Spock?!” Jim tumbled out of bed, grabbing a t-shirt and sweatpants from the ground as he followed his husband. “Jesus Christ, you can’t just stop a sentence like that,” he said, mostly to himself as Spock had already disappeared out of the door. 

Jim dressed as he caught up with Spock making long strides toward the crew quarters. “Spock! Do you know who she’s with?” 

“Dr. McCoy’s son.” 

If it weren’t his beautiful, innocent, little Amanda, Jim would have laughed. As it was, his mind immediately conjured up images of Amanda and Noah in various compromising positions, and Jim wanted to vomit. 

When they reached the door of Noah McCoy’s quarters, Spock pounded on the door. No response. Spock pounded harder and then—“Uh, hello?” 

It was Noah. 

Jim stepped forward and keyed in his Captain’s override. That’s how Jim knew Spock was pissed as hell. He would never have approved of Jim using his command for such a personal purpose in his normal state of mind. 

Jim almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Amanda was (nearly) fully clothed. Only her shoes and jacket were missing. He wished she weren’t in the boy’s bed, but Jim had learned to take the small victories when dealing with two Vulcan-human hybrids for children. 

But then he noticed that Amanda’s hands were splayed on the side of Noah’s head, his psi points gently, but firmly connected to Jim and Spock’s little girl. 

Jim could feel Spock’s anger through their bond. His disappointment and a bit of revulsion was a bitter taste in Jim’s mind. 

“Amanda, I would recommend you get up now,” Jim said, sensing that he would have to be the gentler parent right now. 

Amanda’s hands jerked from Noah’s head. Noah’s eyes were glazed over, his mind obviously adjusting to abruptly being parted from the meld. Jim was fairly certain that look is what pushed Spock over the edge. 

Spock stepped forward and picked Amanda up, bridal style, like he used to hold her when she was a baby. Noah was pressed into the wall, as far from Captain Kirk and Commander Spock as he could be. Jim couldn’t really blame him. 

“Sa’mekh!” Amanda yelled in Vulcan, pounding her fists against Spock’s chest. “Put me down!”

“No,” Spock responded coldly, as they disappeared around the corner. 

Jim hesitated in Noah McCoy’s room, watching this boy who had been in his daughter’s mind, utterly unsure how to feel. 

“I would not recommend dating a fifteen year old Vulcan.” Jim hesitated. “Especially one that is Commander Spock’s daughter.” 

Noah nodded silently.

“You know they have a link, in their minds. So, when you’re with her, you’re with all of us,” Jim told him.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But it would certainly keep Noah away from his little girl. And it was most certainly worth the pale, stricken look on Noah McCoy's face at that moment.

Jim then turned on his heel and ran after Spock and Amanda, sensing that this night would only get worse from here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still in the future. Gotta have that teenage angst. Sucks when dad(s) catch you with your boyfriend. Especially if you're part-Vulcan. 
> 
> Also, sorry for the fake science. :) -KK

“I am NOT a CHILD!” Amanda yelled, her voice raw.

Spock had finally let her down once they reached her room. She had jumped away and immediately the yelling match had begun.

“You are fifteen point three four years old, Amanda. That is not only a child by human standards, but by Vulcan standards as well.” Spock was not yelling, but Jim was fairly certain everyone in the room could feel his fury. 

“I am old enough to make my own decisions! I’m plenty mature for my age.”

“A mature Vulcan would not initiate a _mind meld_ with an unbonded human child.” Spock’s distaste was obvious. “It is not only unseemly and dangerous; it is also a betrayal of the highest degree. _Noah_ does not understand the extent of your abilities.”

“I didn’t do a full meld.” She avoided both of their eyes. “Just…you know…surface stuff,” Amanda’s cheeks flushed a green that Jim usually found adorable. But now, he just felt uncomfortable. 

“Amanda, honey,” Jim stepped in front of Spock, whose mouth was open to argue. “We are just worried about you. I know that you’re brilliant and talented. I know you’re more advanced than all but Selik in your classes. But for a Vulcan, you’re still so, _so_ young. And you just don’t have enough control to safely do stuff like mind melds.”

She crossed her arms and looked away from them. “I’m fine.” 

Spock’s fury started to cool. Jim wrapped Spock’s hand in his, sending calmness and love his way. He could also now feel Amanda’s emotions, pouring into Spock from her and now echoing through their bond.

“Amanda, I understand that you wish to be more… _human_ than you are—”

“ _Sa’mekh_ , that’s not—”

“It is not a crime to dislike your nature, Amanda.” Spock squeezed Kirk’s hand tighter, and Jim wondered if he was aware of it. “However, your nature is as it is. _Kaiidth_ , daughter. You are Vulcan enough that you cannot behave as a human. I…apologize for this.”

Amanda’s features crumpled, and Jim was suddenly assaulted by anger and sorrow at the same time, not even sure which of his Vulcans it was coming from. Jesus, his family was difficult to be around sometimes. 

“You can’t control my life forever, Father,” she stood up straighter, and Jim found himself suddenly aware of how old she was. She was getting tall, almost as tall as Spock. Her eyes were chocolate brown, like his, but softer in her own way. They no longer held the spark of a child, and Jim found himself incredibly sad. 

“I have no desire to control your life.” Spock’s voice was gentler now, but by no means was he done being angry. “But your mental shields, while operable, could not withstand my simple attempt to ascertain whether or not you were well. This is unacceptable.” 

Amanda glared at him now, her anger reignited. “It isn’t your mind to control. And maybe you should respect my privacy.”

“I respect your privacy. That does not mean that you are free to do whatever you want while you are still in my care.” Spock tilted his head. “Further, it is most illogical that you are resisting my attempts to help _maintain_ the privacy of your mind. If you would only meditate in conjunction with me on occasion as Selik does—”

“Selik is nothing like me.” Amanda’s voice went cold. Jim stopped feeling any emotion pouring from her into Spock. She was blocking him again. 

“While your minds are of course different, I see no fault in the comparison.”

“He’s a better Vulcan than I ever will be,” her voice was tight. “And I’m sorry that I’m not the one who is more human. I know that’s what you’d prefer.”

Before Spock could respond, Amanda stormed out of her room.

When Spock went to follow, Jim tugged him back. “Give her some time to cool off. She’s embarrassed and angry, _t’hy’la_.”

Spock breathed and looked at his feet. “I am most pleased with her as she is,” Spock said softly. 

Jim put a soft finger to Spock’s chin and lifted his head. “She knows that.” He kissed him gently, pulling Spock closer so that their thoughts mingled and became one. Jim sent him images of their family, their loving and close and perfect—at least to him—family. It would be okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amanda was stormy with emotions as she headed back to the transporter room. Selik had been in her mind during most of the yelling match with their Father. She could sense him holding back from agreeing with all of Spock’s points, and she appreciated that sometimes her brother knew when to be supportive rather than logical. 

She even logically knew that Spock and Selik were both right. She knew her emotions were a hurricane of confusion that she kept shoved into the far reaches of her mind. She hated it.

Sometimes she resented Spock for the genes he gave her. She resented that she could not flirt with boys without sensing everything about them. She resented that emotions were often too overwhelming for her, that her Vulcan hormonal system could shove her off a precipice of control so easily. 

“Please don’t lecture me, Selik,” she said, when she walked into the transporter room. 

He was not working anymore, obviously waiting for her arrival. His arms were held stiffly behind his back, just like their Father. 

“I have no intention,” Selik watched her, his emotions unreadable. “I regret that you are feeling sadness at this juncture.” 

Her anger fizzled somewhat at Selik’s silent support. She glanced at the console, exposed wires still poking out from their appropriate locations. 

“Uncle Scotty is going to kill you if that’s not back operational by Alpha Shift,” she commented, wanting to talk about something other than her fucked up emotional state. 

“I assure you that the transporter is fully operational. I am merely running a model using the transporter’s operating system in order to test the functionality of my theory. I would not incapacitate one of the Enterprise’s main systems for a science experiment. That would be illogical.” 

Amanda sighed. She eased her mental block from her Father, letting his presence be known in her mind, but she let no emotions through. This was her compromise, her way of telling him that she would let them sort this out later. Selik sensed the change in her mind, she was sure, but said nothing. 

“Wanna beam me somewhere?” She asked wistfully, wandering over to the transporter pads.

Selik knew she was not serious, but he responded, “Where would you go?” 

“I don’t know. I think I might like Terra, maybe stay with Grandma in San Francisco?” She liked the idea of blending into the melting pot of one of Terra’s most interplanetary spaceports. She wandered over the transporter pads, letting her fingers trace the grains in the walls. 

“Grandmother would appreciate your company, I am sure,” Selik humored her hypothetical musings. 

“I think I would feel more normal there. Earthside.” She said the words, but she was not sure that she really meant them. She might like shore leave well enough, but the stars had always called to her. She was Commander Spock and Captain James T. Kirk’s child after all.

“I believe your intellect is far better spent exploring the universe,” Selik offered. He hesitated a moment before adding, “In addition, I believe Dad would find your absence upsetting.” 

Amanda knew Selik enough to realize that meant he would miss her terribly if she left the Enterprise. She smiled to herself. 

As she turned to say something else to her brother, her body suddenly began to tingle. She was confused for a moment, wondering if she had accidentally let one of the emotional dams in her mind break without her noticing. 

Then she realized this was a purely physical feeling. A familiar physical feeling. 

“Selik!” She screeched his name. 

She knew well enough to stop moving from her current transporter pad. She could confuse its signal, dispersing her body into pieces. 

Selik’s eyes widened when he saw what was happening. His gaze snapped to the console. Sparks were starting to fly. 

“No, that’s impossible,” Selik said quickly. He was using contractions, an obvious sign of panic. He ran to the console and began furiously scrolling through his PADD.

“I thought you said you weren’t in the mainframe?!” She was starting to panic too. Where would she beam? 

“I’m not! I swear I am not!”

“Where’s it sending me?” She asked. It was taking too long. The disturbing tingle was not intensifying or going away. The transporter seemed stuck in limbo between two locations. 

“The highest likelihood is the coordinates of the last transport.” 

“The prison colony?!” Amanda’s voice was shrill. 

Selik’s mouth was in a grim line. He was just staring at the PADD now, his body deathly still. “Amanda, I do not know what to do.”

“Call Father!”

“You will be gone by then.” Selik turned his PADD around, showing her a countdown. “This is the subroutine counter. You are in a loop that is set to time out in 56 seconds.”

“Selik…” She started hyperventilating. Her mind was going fuzzy. She could not tell if it was the transporter or her lack of control over her thoughts. “Can I just step off?” 

“No!” He held out his hand. “Do not. You are already read into the system. Your atoms will be scrambled if you attempt to move.”

“Okay…okay…” She thought through everything she knew about transporters in approximately 15.3 seconds. Nothing was remotely helpful for less than a minute of time. Especially since she had no idea what Selik had done to the system. “Okay, Selik…just make sure they know to look for me back on Selvan IV, okay?”

Selik was uncharacteristically biting his lip. His arms were not stiff at his sides. He looked just like Dad. 

Amanda quickly ran through all she knew about Selvan IV, preparing herself for her most likely destination. However, her thoughts were growing harder to grasp onto. Time itself felt sluggish…how long had it been since Selik said that she had 56 seconds? She couldn’t remember. What was wrong with her? Her internal clock was completely off. 

When Amanda blinked, suddenly Selik was in front of her, standing on the transporter pad across from her. 

“What’re you doing?”

Selik turned his PADD around, showing her the large numbers: 00:00:05…4…3… 

“I’m coming with you.” 

The last thing Amanda thought before everything went black was that Selik sounded completely illogical when he used contractions.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in my head we're somewhere after Into Darkness. Although it doesn't really matter because I'm not really going to use any plot points from it.
> 
> This one's a bit longer than the first two. Enjoy! :)

James T. Kirk was sitting in his captain’s chair crunching down on an apple when the klaxons started to wail around him. His eyebrow went up as he slowly swiveled to face the station behind him. 

“Security? What’s up?” 

“Unauthorized transporter use, Captain. Someone has beamed aboard without alerting us beforehand. They somehow overrode the confirmation codes.” The security officer was furiously typing away at his station.

“Is someone down there checking it out?” Kirk stood, preparing himself to go greet their unexpected guests. 

“I have three guards set to arrive within the minute,” the chief security officer’s comm began beeping, and he picked it up while saying to the captain, “Security feed on main viewport, Sir.”

Kirk turned to the screen, not really sure what he was expecting. Worst case scenario, some angry Klingons would be blasting away. Best case scenario, there would be nothing and the security breach was just an error.

However, neither of these things was on the viewport. Instead, there was a young blonde boy lying across the transporter pads as if he had collapsed as soon as he arrived. A dark haired girl leaned over him, obviously trying to rouse the sleeping boy. 

“Well, I certainly don’t know what to make of that.” Kirk commented. 

“Ze look like children, Keptin,” Chekov observed.

Jim smiled over in Chekov’s direction. “They don’t look much younger than you, Ensign.” 

On the viewport, the security officers had arrived, phasers pointed at their young targets. 

When the girl looked up at the guards, Kirk sensed the whole bridge crew tense up. She was crying furiously, her face wrought with tears and her eyes wild with fear. She was yelling at the security guards, motioning down at the blonde boy. 

“Could you get audio, Lieutenant?” Kirk asked the security officer again. 

Suddenly the sounds of the transporter room filled the bridge. 

“Get help! Selik won’t wake up!” The girl’s voice was hoarse. "What're you doing?! Don't just stand there!"

Kirk heard enough in her voice to make a quick decision. 

“Turn off the feed, Lieutenant. Page Dr. McCoy. Tell him to meet me in the transporter room. I’m going to go down there.” Kirk turned to the science station. His first officer was staring at the viewport, his face subtly, but definitely furrowed. “Spock?”

Spock’s expression cleared as he turned toward his captain. “Yes, Captain?”

“Take the helm? I’m going to check this out.” 

Spock began nodding, but then he twitched a bit. It was the same twitch of discomfiture he used when Kirk accidentally touched his skin.

“Actually, Captain, might I accompany you?” His face was impassive again, but Kirk saw something in his eyes that he had never seen before. Well wasn’t that something? Spock looked alarmed. 

“Of course, Mister Spock.” Jim turned to the helm. “Sulu, she’s yours.” 

As soon as they were out of earshot of the bridge, Spock spoke, “Captain, why did you request Lieutenant O’Hara turn off the security feed on the bridge?” 

Kirk shrugged as they entered the lift. “That girl’s voice.” 

“Did you believe her to be distressing to the crew?” 

“No,” Jim shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve heard screams like that, Spock. She sounded terrified. That’s not the scream of someone who is here to hurt us. I know it may seem illogical, but it felt wrong to let everyone see a scared little girl have a breakdown.”

Spock nodded, considering Kirk’s words. Jim could tell he wanted to say something but was obviously hesitating. Kirk tried to exude his most patient and understanding thoughts. Spock usually seemed to pick up on that sort of thing. 

Spock finally spoke. “Captain, I believe the female intruder has telepathic ability. She might not be as harmless as she seems.”

Kirk’s eyes widened briefly. “That’s why you were freaking out on the bridge.” 

“I was not ‘freaking out.’” Spock stiffened. “I simply experienced a strong barrage of emotions for which I was not prepared.” 

“All the way from the transporter room? I didn’t think that was possible.” 

They reached the floor with the transporter. Their pace grew faster as they got closer to their destination. 

“Some species have been known to have the ability to broadcast their emotions farther than what could be considered an average range. However, the girl in the transporter room was humanoid, and I am not aware of any telepathic humanoid race with such telepathic ranges under standard conditions.”

“Standard conditions?” Kirk questioned.

“The average psi sensitive species have the ability to broadcast emotions under extreme duress as a survival mechanism. You might consider it to be a telepathic scream.” Spock shifted, an unreadable emotion passing through his eyes. Pain? “This is why I requested to accompany you, Captain. As one of the most well trained telepaths aboard this ship, I may have a unique ability to help this situation.”

Kirk nodded and continued leading them toward the transporter room in silence. He braced himself as they turned the corner into the room... 

The scene was much the same as on the viewport. But now none of the security guards had their phasers out. In fact, they looked shell-shocked, as if all of their training had not prepared them for this situation. 

Jim didn’t understand immediately, but at about the same time as he heard Spock take a sharp intake of breath, Jim saw what had terrified everyone.

The girl was the same one as on the screen before. Same tears. Same distraught features. 

But now it was utterly, painfully obvious that she was a Vulcan. A crying, screaming Vulcan. Terrifying. 

“Spock…?” Jim whispered lightly. 

The girl’s head snapped up to them immediately. 

She had long black hair that nearly reached her waist. It was cut with straight bangs across the front that would have covered the upswept eyebrows if the fringe of hair weren’t disheveled. Her face wasn’t quite all angles like he tended to imagine most Vulcans, but he did not have that much experience with the race as a whole. 

Kirk could see now that her eyes were bloodshot with light green lines around her brown irises. A crying Vulcan. Now he had seen everything. 

The girl’s eyes were wide, too wide for a Vulcan, when she looked up from the boy at her feet and said, “Please, help him?” Her eyes lingered on Kirk and then shifted slowly to Spock.

Her face was contorted in pain. Suddenly Kirk was reminded of Spock, his hand held out in this very room, reaching for a mother that would never come back. 

Kirk flipped open his communicator and dialed Bones, all without taking his eyes off of the Vulcan girl. “Bones, you almost here?”

“Two minutes. What do I need? I have the basic triage. Any idea of the injuries?” Bones’ words tumbled over each other. 

Kirk walked to the girl. She subtly shifted backwards when he was close enough to touch her. He held out the communicator. “You would know better than I.”

She quickly grabbed the device, careful not to make skin contact, and spoke with a shaking voice. “Dr. McCoy?” 

Kirk’s eyebrows shot up, but he said nothing. 

“Who’s this? Where’s Jim?” 

“My name is Amanda,” the girl said. “I believe the injuries to be largely telepathic in nature. Do you have training adequate to deal with this?”

“Tele—yeah, I know the basics. What sort of telepathic injuries? What species?” McCoy was obviously confused. 

“I am unsure as to the full extent or nature of the injuries, Doctor.” The girl’s voice grew rougher.

Jim realized then that the girl’s eyes were not focusing on the boy in front of her anymore. 

“I believe I will be unconscious in approximately 10.45 seconds,” she whispered into the communicator. She had to catch her breath before continuing. “I wanted to alert you before I lost—”

Then the girl collapsed.

Kirk instinctively jerked forward in a belated attempt to catch her. 

“Commander Spock?!” Someone else yelped from behind Jim. 

Kirk jerked his head around to see his first officer on the ground, one hand bracing himself on the floor and the other grasping his head in obvious pain. 

“What the hell is happening here?” Bones had arrived. He had a tricorder out and ready to go. He stood at the entrance glancing between the two children on the transporter pads and Spock, who had not moved since the girl collapsed.

Spock was obviously still mostly conscious, so Kirk looked over to the kids. “Them. Go to them. I think the boy’s been out since he arrived. The girl…well, you heard her lose consciousness.”

Bones immediately went to the kids. He checked the basics: their pulses, their pupil dilation. When he saw that the girl was a Vulcan, he didn’t even flinch. Now was not the time.

As Bones looked down at the tricorder readings, he frowned. “I don’t…neither of them…we need to get them to infirmary now. This thing is useless.”

“Useless?” Jim's voice cracked on the word.

“He’s not reading human normal and she’s not reading Vulcan normal. So I need better equipment. These are only made to handle average.” Bones put his hand over where the girl’s heart would be as a Vulcan, nodding to himself as he verified something. 

Kirk went to Spock, kneeling next to him and resisting the urge to put a hand on his shoulder. “Spock? What’s happening? Do you need to go to sickbay?” 

“Affirmative,” Spock hissed. “The girl has undergone massive psychic trauma.”

Kirk thought about what Spock said about telepaths during times of stress. “Telepathic scream?”

Spock nodded. “My own mental shields seem to be failing. I am uncertain why. I shall need to meditate and perhaps enter a healing trance.”

“Spock…I’m…is there anything I can do to help?” Kirk felt helpless. He always hated enemies he could not see.

“Negative.” He looked up at Kirk, and Jim saw the same bloodshot eyes as the Vulcan girl behind him. 

“Can you walk, Spock?”

His first officer got onto shaky legs. When Spock started to fall, Kirk swept in quickly, placing one hand firmly on Spock’s chest and let his other arm wrap around Spock’s waist. Jim was very careful to avoid skin contact. The last thing he needed was Jim’s mind assaulting him too. 

Spock jerked away a bit at the contact, wincing slightly. 

“Sorry, I’m avoiding touching your skin, Commander. But—”

“Your assistance is appreciated,” Spock said, his voice clipped and tight. 

With that, the injured parties slowly made their way to sickbay. Jim kept his arm firmly around his First Officer, his hand firmly against the strong thud of a Vulcan heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spock was finally able to isolate his mind in the silence of the sickbay. He was distressed that the female Vulcan had been able to assault his senses so violently, but for now, his mental shields were back in place, and he could think. 

The male intruder was lying on the hospital bed to his left. Spock was ninety eight point seven six percent certain he had never met this boy before, and yet he looked inexplicably familiar.

“Have you determined the cause of his loss of consciousness, Doctor?” Spock glanced at Dr. McCoy, who was hovering over the male human’s bed, watching him with confused eyes. “And where is the female?”

Dr. McCoy did not snap at Spock, which was his response to most of Spock’s vocalizations eighty nine point six percent of the time. Something must be affecting the Doctor’s behavior.

“I have her in a telepathic isolation room. Thought it might help you retain control since her brain is spiking with activity every few seconds. He’s got the same problem as the girl, minus the telepathic shouting match she’s got going. Psychic trauma. When I saw she was Vulcan, I thought—”

“Bones!” Captain Kirk burst into the sickbay. “Are you debriefing my first officer without me present?”

Kirk smiled brightly at Spock, “Glad you’re doing better.” Spock found himself unconsciously strengthening his mental shields. Strange. Did he always do that when the Captain was around? He would have to consider this. 

“Try to keep your obnoxiously loud thoughts to yourself right now, Jim. I’ve got three psychic traumas and no specialists on board.” McCoy sighed as Captain Kirk bounced on his toes.

“How would you know if my thoughts were obnoxiously loud?”

“Lucky guess.” Dr. McCoy rolled his eyes.

“I believe the Doctor is extrapolating based off of data collected from his personal encounters with you,” Spock provided.

“Mister Spock,” Kirk placed a hand over the location of his heart. “Did you just call me loud?”

“Not everyday the hobgoblin agrees with me,” Dr. McCoy muttered, looking extremely uncomfortable with this development.

“Dr. McCoy? Perhaps we should return to the conversation regarding this intruder?” Spock redirected them back to more pertinent matters. 

“It’s probably best Jim’s here for this anyway,” Dr. McCoy commented, nodding at the boy.

Captain Kirk frowned. “What’s up, Bones?”

“Look at him, Jim. Really, really look at him.”

Spock did not understand the relevance but joined the Captain in observing the male. His observations led him to again consider how familiar the boy seemed to him.

Blonde hair, strong facial features, broad build…Spock raised his eyebrows when he, as Kirk would say, ‘got the point.’ 

“This male resembles the Captain to an alarmingly significant statistical degree.”

Kirk’s response to this was inscrutable. His eyebrows furrowed. “I guess so. But he’s like…sixteen. I don’t have any family members that age.”

“Jim,” McCoy handed him the PADD which served as the medical chart. “I have your DNA sequence on file. I went ahead and ran his genetic code.”

The Captain frowned, taking the PADD slowly. “The paternity match is 98 percent,” Kirk read from the report, his eyes scanning over the words and numbers. 

“Jim…I think this boy is your son,” McCoy provided, unnecessarily. 

“I’m twenty-seven, Bones. There’s no fucking way. I’d have been…eleven when he was born? I may have gotten around, but I’m not that bad.” Kirk was staring at the PADD numbly, obviously not believing the results, which Spock found to be illogical. Either the results were correct or Dr. McCoy could not run a simple gene comparison. 

“I’m just telling you what the science says, Jim.” Dr. McCoy pointed out, quite logically. 

“Doctor, if this boy is indeed Jim’s progeny, then why did the medical tricorder malfunction when he was scanned?” Spock gazed at the child again, considering this new information. “In addition, how could he have sustained such serious telepathic damage as a human?”

“He’s _not_ my _progeny_!” Kirk protested. 

Dr. McCoy ignored his outburst.

“That was my next thought as well, Spock,” McCoy agreed, and again, Spock was struck by how statistically significant it was that the Doctor was conversing with him without using colloquialisms or curse words. 

“And my favorite part if I do say so myself,” the doctor continued, “I thought I’d have to really look into this kid’s DNA to figure out where the telepathic susceptibility came from.” 

McCoy picked up a hypo from a nearby table and gently removed some of the boy’s blonde locks away from his ear with the edge of the hypo, obviously avoiding touching the boy’s skin with his own. “Turns out I didn’t need to look farther than his ears.”

The Captain’s breath caught, and Spock found himself suppressing a similar reaction. The boy’s ears were not the rounded shell of a human, but rather the pointed curve associated most commonly with Vulcans. 

Neither Spock nor Kirk spoke in response to this. McCoy pulled something out from the bin next to the boy’s bed. 

“He’s got hobgoblin blood, too.” McCoy shook a vial of green blood for them to see. 

Kirk had finally set the PADD down, at the foot of Spock’s hospital bed. “So he’s half me and half Vulcan?” Kirk’s eyes flicked over Spock’s face. “Is this a joke?” 

“I was going to ask you that,” McCoy shrugged at Jim. “You have yourself here a Vulcan-Human hybrid...a Vulcan-Kirk hybrid.”

Spock reached for the boy’s abandoned PADD and flicked through the results himself. 

“The female Vulcan called him Selik,” Spock reminded them. “As this name is primarily a Vulcan one, he was most likely raised by a Vulcan parent. Captain, have you ever engaged in coitus with a Vulcan female?” Spock asked mildly, while looking through the boy’s genetic markers. He was somewhat familiar with common Vulcan genetic structural peculiarities due to his own mixed heritage.

“Jesus Christ, no!” 

Spock looked up at the Captain’s outburst. Kirk raised his arms above his head before letting them drop, something the Captain did when he was experiencing frustration. “I’m twenty-seven! I can’t have a kid this big. And I’ve never even come close to doing anything mildly sexual with a Vulcan.”

No one responded to that, and Kirk flushed.

Spock returned to the PADD in front of him. “Dr. McCoy, have you studied anything about my own genetic code?” 

“A little. I was under the impression that you were the only hybrid known to date.” The Doctor was leaning casually against the bed next to the boy.

“As was I, Doctor. However, one of the most interesting outcomes of my birth was the discovery that Vulcan genes were aggressively dominant over most human ones.” Spock looked pointedly at the human-looking boy. 

Dr. McCoy’s eyes widened. “Which implies this kid isn’t a first generation hybrid…”

“Correct.” Spock nodded. 

“Hold up.” Kirk ran his fingers through his hair. “You’ve lost me.”

“The only way this boy could express recessive _human_ genes is if he was the progeny of a Vulcan who already possessed those human genes as well,” Spock explained, pushing the PADD away from himself. He suddenly understood Kirk’s earlier disbelief, because now his mind was creating possibilities and probabilities that he did not wish to explore. 

“But I thought you were the only half breed,” McCoy said slowly. His eyes flicking from Spock to Kirk and then down at the boy on the table. 

“I haven’t had sex with Spock, Bones,” Kirk smirked. 

Spock felt his blood rush to his face before he could suppress the reaction. He sometimes hated James Kirk. 

“I know that,” McCoy said, not entirely sounding like he had, indeed, known. 

“Neither Jim nor I is capable of gestating a child to term. We are biologically male. And in each of our respective species, that indicates that we do not have the capacity for child birth,” Spock said, sending a reproving look to McCoy. Spock did not realize he had used Kirk’s nickname until the Captain smiled slightly in Spock’s direction. Spock flushed again. 

“I _know_ that. I did attend med school.” McCoy glared. 

“Okay.” Kirk’s face became serious again. “So this kid has my genes. Hypotheses?” 

“Someone stole your genes?” McCoy suggested.

“For what purpose?” Spock cocked an eyebrow.

“I doubt anyone is going to Nowhere, Iowa just to take my DNA when I was eleven. I mean, my dad was famous, but he certainly was not particularly special.” Jim was leaning on the edge of the boy’s bed, staring hard at him. 

“Let us not forget the female Vulcan, Captain. She is our most important source of information.” Spock could not forget her eyes, wild with emotion. When he thought of her, his mind remembered the chaos, as if his thoughts had been scrambled by her mental anguish. How had she gotten past his shields?

“What information?” Kirk raised his eyebrows. 

“She knew Doctor McCoy’s name without having been told it.”

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t know that.”

The Captain hit himself in the head. “I forgot. I got distracted when Spock—I forgot.” Kirk rubbed his neck, uncomfortable with something. Spock dismissed it. 

“Factoring in known variables, I believe that these children have somehow travelled either through time or from an alternate reality. When the female saw the Captain and I, I sensed recognition in her, and then a deep sense of alarm. It was…disconcerting. Her emotions were painfully strong. She has not been trained to control her abilities well. It was an extremely unwise action on her guardian’s part.”

“So you think he’s my son from the future or alternate reality…my son with an unknown half-Vulcan parent?” Kirk was avoiding Spock’s gaze as he said this. Spock found he was grateful for the lack of eye contact.

Dr. McCoy was looking between Spock and Kirk, his mouth opened as if to make a comment, but then he reconsidered and said nothing.

“And he was somehow accompanied by a Vulcan girl?” Jim finished stating their somewhat improbable theory.

McCoy started picking at the sheets of the bed as he said, “She’s only part Vulcan too, Jim. Tricorder didn’t work on her either. As far as I can tell, her biology mimics Spock’s much more closely.” 

Spock’s heartbeat elevated by ten percent at this statement. He analyzed the reaction, and then dismissed it. But another fact kept moving to the forefront of his thoughts until he had to address it. 

“Her name is Amanda,” Spock reminded them. 

“So?” McCoy shrugged. “It’s not terribly Vulcan, but she’s not full—”

“That’s Spock’s mom’s name, Bones.” Kirk’s eyes flickered to Spock’s briefly. 

The doctor’s face became pale.

“Oh.”

None of them said anything, but Spock felt certain they were all thinking it. There really was only one obvious conclusion from this whole scenario, but Spock, for once, did not desire to voice his findings. It was quite illogical.

“You can stop guessing now.” A soft female voice spoke from the edge of the room. 

The Vulcan female— _Amanda_ , Spock thought to himself—looked so human that he could hardly convince himself that she was not. 

She wore her weariness in her shoulders and her eyes, the way the Captain did when he had a particularly taxing day. 

“I’m blocking my mind now,” she offered, a brief smile crossing her face as she glanced into Spock’s eyes and then away again. “So my presence should be tolerable.”

“You know us?” Kirk asked slowly. 

Amanda’s smile was bitter when she said, “Yeah, but it’s more complicated than that.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world for explanations, sweetheart,” Dr. McCoy told her. He patted the spot on the bed next to the boy that may or may not be Captain Kirk’s son. “Would you like to sit here, next to—Selik? You said his name was Selik?”

“Yes. Is he alright?” Her face turned to one of concern, and Spock was suddenly reminded of his mother.

“Physically, he is fine. But it’s almost like he’s locked himself inside his mind,” McCoy told her. 

She was standing right next to the boy’s bed now, looking down at him. Spock was certain he had never seen such gentle concern on a Vulcan face. For some reason, seeing this girl made his chest ache. 

“I think I can—” She reached forward and settled her fingers on the boy’s psi points. 

Spock’s breath caught.

She smiled up at him, as if she could read his thoughts, and Spock found his chest feeling raw again. “He’s my brother, Commander. I would never invade someone’s mind without their full consent.”

Spock found that he could not look away from the girl.

“Brother? But…” Kirk’s voice was strained. 

Amanda ignored Kirk and closed her eyes as she muttered, “My mind to your mind…”

Spock glanced away from the girl to his Captain, who was rubbing his forehead vigorously. 

When Spock next looked to the bed next to him, Amanda’s eyes were opening, and she was moving her hand from her brother’s face. Spock glanced to the boy, whose eyes were opening slowly. 

The bright light was obviously too much for him. “Amanda?” His voice was gravelly. “Where are we?”

“Uh,” she hesitated, her fingers flexing. “Complicated.” 

The boy slowly lifted himself. He blinked a few times, clearing his eyes. And Spock was struck by the bright, clear blue that could belong to no one but a Kirk. Spock’s face flushed again. 

The boy—Selik—saw Kirk first. He opened his mouth to speak, but then tilted his head to the side, as if in confusion. “Amanda?” 

“Yeah,” she agreed to some unspoken thought, her voice oddly grim.

“I think we were told we would get answers?” McCoy questioned. Spock was certain that he had never seen the Chief Medical Officer look so utterly befuddled. 

“I am not certain that is wise,” Selik spoke quickly, avoiding any of their gazes. 

“Me either. But I don’t think we have a choice. We need help, and they can’t really help us if they don’t know the full story.” Amanda grasped her brother’s hand, and Spock found his eyes drawn to the gesture. If they were indeed siblings, then when they were touching in such a manner, they could probably converse without having to vocalize.

“You…you have my genes,” Kirk stated, his eyes meeting Selik’s.

Amanda stiffened, while Selik nodded slowly. “Yes. As Amanda is my fraternal twin sister, she also shares your genetic code.”

Spock, of course, noted that this sibling had a notably… _different_ speech pattern than his sister. He imagined that Kirk also noticed this, but humans often could not handle shocking information in quick succession without experiencing an anxiety attack. And the Captain looked like he was about to have multiple anxiety attacks

“We know it doesn’t have to mean anything here, wherever we are.” Amanda was staring pointedly at the location where hers and her brother’s hands met, avoiding looking at anyone else in the room. “But we are the children of James Tiberius Kirk of Earth and S’chn T’gai Spock of Vulcan.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once this chapter's through, I'm hoping to get some more fluff/angst going on. The idea is for Spock and Kirk to sort of see the best/worst in themselves in their kids. Hopefully it'll be a fun little adventure!

“What?” Jim’s words caught in his throat. “You’re what?”

“Captain, these children are the result of mixing of our—”

“I understand, Mister Spock!” Jim put his hand up, stopping his First Officer. 

“We’re just telling you for the sake of information,” the Vulcan girl, his _daughter_ , said. “We aren’t expecting a hug or anything.”

“Further, I believe a hug would be unwise at this point in time,” his _son_ said, with a look of distaste that mimicked Spock’s perfectly. 

“Well isn’t this a warm family moment?” Bones was resisting laughing, Jim could tell, and he wanted to slap him. 

Selik stiffened at this. “Although we share genes, the versions of Spock and James Kirk here are not our family. They are much younger than the men we call our fathers. Family is defined by bonds that are much more complex than genetic code.”

Jim recognized that tone. It was the Spock is ‘disappointed in your thoughts’ tone. Jim knew it well. He shivered. He was not sure how much of this kid he would be able to take.

“Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to hit a sore spot,” Bones muttered.

“Although meant metaphorically, you have quite literally ‘hit a sore spot.’ Our familial ties have been severed by whatever transport brought us to this location,” Selik’s voice was tight. 

Spock’s head turned swiftly to Selik. “Your bonds severed?” 

“Indeed, Commander,” Selik was just as good at Spock at appearing unfazed. 

Jim found himself wondering if Selik called his father Commander. He could almost imagine Spock not allowing more informal, familiar terms like ‘dad.’ 

“I’m sorry,” Jim offered. Although he knew very little about Vulcan bonds, he knew enough to know that this really, really _sucked_. “I obviously don’t have a point of reference, but I’m sorry this has happened to you.”

“You are not at fault, and therefore your apologies are illogical,” Selik said. 

“So, you don’t have any bonds?” Amanda asked, watching Jim with Spock’s brown eyes. But those eyes looked so _human_ on her. How was that possible?

“No, why would I?” Jim asked, frowning. 

“Our James Kirk has a—” Selik paused, and Jim could tell that was uncharacteristic even after only knowing him for a few moments, “has what you might call a marriage bond with our Spock.”

Bones whistled. “Damn, Jim.”

Jim’s heart skipped a beat, and he looked over to his First Officer. The expression on Spock’s face was unreadable, but Jim felt like he was slightly more pale than usual, which was saying something.

A marriage bond with a Vulcan? He married a Vulcan? _His_ Vulcan? Spock? 

“Spock?” Jim wanted him to say something, anything. 

“Captain?” Spock met his eyes, and Jim couldn’t breathe. He had to look away. 

“You aren’t together?” Amanda’s voice was soft and perhaps a bit unsteady. 

“Negative,” Spock focused on her. “The Captain and I maintain a professional relationship.” 

“And last I heard, he was dating Uhura,” Jim murmured.

“Aunt Uhura engaged in a romantic relationship with Father?” Selik asked, his eyes blown in the Vulcan equivalent of horror

‘Father’ sounded like a term Spock would allow. Familial, but not overly informal. Jim wondered what they called him. _No, no,_ these kids weren’t his. Not now, maybe not ever. Maybe they were from an alternate reality. Maybe it was an alternate reality where Spock never dated Uhura.

“Actually,” Amanda laughed a little. “I knew that.”

Well, there goes that idea. 

“Explain,” Selik frowned at her.

“Dad told me,” she said, shrugging. “I believe he wished for me to know that Father could act human for more people than just him.” 

Spock acting human for him. What did that even mean? Jim remembered Spock’s tears in the reactor core, and Spock’s fury on the bridge. Maybe Spock did act human around Jim sometimes. The thought made him feel _special_ somehow. That he was able to get under that green Vulcan skin. 

“You must stop equating displays of emotion with humanity, Amanda. It discredits your Vulcan heritage,” Selik snapped. “We are not one or the other. We are both. It is not ‘acting’ human to have emotions.”

Spock was watching the boy was rapt attention, and Jim had to wonder where Selik had learned that bit of wisdom. He wondered if this boy’s Vulcan father was maybe a bit less Vulcan than Spock. 

“You could have fooled me,” Amanda rolled her eyes at her brother. “You’re never human.”

“Amanda, now is not the time for this argument,” Selik chided.

She released her brother’s hand and crossed her arms. 

Well, Amanda was his daughter all right. She might look nothing like him, but man did she favor his personality. 

“May I ask what events lead to your arrival in our ship?” Spock finally spoke. Of course, he would think of the practical questions. 

Selik’s face tightened.

“Transporter accident,” Amanda offered.

“I must admit that the fault was in my own actions, Commander Spock,” Selik added, avoiding Spock’s gaze. “I decided to run a theoretical model for more efficient transport technology using the transporter hardware. I must have…made a mistake.”

Jim imagined that was incredibly painful for this kid to say.

“I was the one stupid enough to go stand on the transporter pads,” his sister insisted. “And the one who convinced you to break curfew to run your experiment.”

Selik opened his mouth to argue back--.

“Fault is irrelevant,” Spock intruded. “I will of course need to hear the complete details of your experiment, Selik. As well as an exact recount of what you did to the transporter mainframe on your ship.”

Selik sat up a little straighter at Spock’s words. “Of course, Commander.”

“Hold up, Spock.” Bones stepped forward. “These kids have just been through an extremely mentally taxing ordeal. I’m ordering bed rest for at least twenty-four hours. No science. No stress.”

“Doctor McCoy, I assure you that is unnecessary. Amanda and I will be functioning proficiently by--” 

“Nope, nope,” Bones stuck his fingers in his ears. “I don’t wanna hear it. If you two really are the spawn of these two idiots, then you’ll of course be conniving to get out of here as quickly as possible. I’m pulling rank. CMO says stay.”

“We are not on your duty roster,” Selik pointed out.

“Then you’re under arrest for trespassing, and I’m ordering you to remain here for the safety of the ship,” Bones countered.

“You serve in no capacity with security detail, Doctor McCoy,” Spock reminded him. 

“NO!” Bones splayed a hand toward Spock. “I’m not having two hobgoblins attack me.”

As Selik eyed Bones with concealed amusement, Jim’s heart skipped a beat. Yeah, some Kirk was in there, perhaps a little deeper down, but this kid had some of him too. 

Could he and Spock maybe…?

No way. 

Jim found himself studying Spock. He had a lot of the traits Jim went for when he did go for guys. He was tall and thin, but obviously carried muscle beneath his uniform. He had pale skin that stood out so well against his dark hair and eyes. Yeah, Spock was attractive. Really attractive. 

Hell, Spock even had some of the personality traits that Jim admired. He was selfless and brave when he needed to be. He cared about his friends and was smarter than Jim could ever hope to be. But Jim could never see a _relationship_ with Spock. Jim wanted physical affection in a relationship, and he was fairly certain all Spock could offer was a tolerant friendship. 

And of course, Jim wanted plenty of sex in a relationship, sex interesting enough to keep him interested in one person for an extended period of time. Could Spock…did Spock even…?

Jim found his eyes drawn to Spock’s fingers. They were long as they grasped the sheets of his hospital bed. Weren’t Vulcan fingers particularly sensitive?

Jim was snapped out of his musings when Bones yelled in his ear, “Jim! Jesus, stop staring at Spock. It’s getting uncomfortable for more than just the Vulcans.”

Jim flushed. Amanda was obviously hiding laughter, while Selik and Spock had the same repressed discomfort written on their faces. 

“Sorry, I got…lost in thought. I’ll make sure my eyes avoid your general direction, Commander.” Jim tried to recover his pride with professionalism.

Amanda laughed aloud, and Jim suddenly wanted to strangle her. Bones put a hand on her shoulder, and she didn’t object to the contact at all. 

“I have a feeling we’re friends in the future, aren’t we, sweet pea?” Bones asked, smiling at her. 

“Yeah, Uncle Bones,” Amanda grinned up at him, looking relaxed for the first time since she arrived. 

“We don’t know that you are from this future.” Jim tried to control his blush, but he knew he was failing. Jesus, he hated his hormones sometimes. “Is there any way for us to figure that out?”

“An interesting query,” the Selik said, obviously happy to change the subject. “If we were from the future of this reality, then one might surmise that we have created a new reality by simply being here. So the answer to that question could be quite complex.” 

“I don’t think that matters at this point,” Amanda said. “We are here now, and we would like to get back home.”

“A most logical statement, Amanda,” Spock said, his voice growing softer on her name. 

They named their daughter after Spock’s dead _mom_. Jesus. That made it all more serious.

“Is...,” Kirk stopped himself and looked to Spock, “I’m sorry for this question, Spock, but,” he looked back to the children, “Is Spock’s mother alive in your time stream?”

Amanda reached out a hand to Spock but swiftly pulled back when she realized what she had done. Spock’s face was a stone mask, but he was watching Amanda raptly.

“No,” Amanda said, apologetic. “She died on Vulcan, along with most of our race.” Amanda hesitated and then added, “I am told I have her eyes.” 

Spock nodded shortly at that, and Jim felt like a jerk for bringing any of it up. 

“I’m sorry I asked,” Jim said quickly. “I just thought that maybe we could compare pasts, and maybe that way we would narrow down if you come from the future of this timeline. I think the Destruction of Vulcan was pretty defining for this reality. At least, it is according to a--” Jim thought of Spock’s older self, somewhere off rebuilding Vulcan society, “—according to a friend of ours.”

“Vulcan was indeed destroyed by Romulan attack in our timeline,” Selik said.

“It still doesn’t matter,” Amanda added, shrugging. “Just because we are here now doesn’t mean we still will be in the future if we mess things up.”

“Well, I don’t think Spock and Jim would let that happen, ‘Manda.” Bones smiled down at her. Bones always did have a soft spot for little girls. Jim thought they probably reminded him of his own daughter, Joanna. 

“I believe the best course of action is for us to return home as soon as possible,” Selik was frowning at Bones’ display of affection. “So that way we affect this time period as little as possible.”

“Logical,” Spock agreed. 

“What do we want to tell the crew?” Jim asked. “I think the senior crew should know, but everyone else…I don’t know if making a ship-wide announcement that the Captain and First Officer’s children have beamed aboard is the wisest of leadership plans.” 

“I agree, Captain,” Spock said. “Although I warn you that the human propensity for gossip will probably cause rumors to circulate. Selik’s resemblance to your person is…remarkable.” 

“Not to mention that Vulcans are hardly ever seen outside of their new colony anymore. So Amanda here’s gonna stick out a bit,” Bones added.

“My sister is also quite…expressive for a Vulcan. She receives judgment for this behavior quite often. Your crew will most likely not be an exception to this rule.”

Amanda sighed and stared at her feet. Jim felt for her. What must it be like to have the cultural stereotypes of a famous and now endangered species on your back? 

The girl looked tired to her core, and Jim suddenly wanted to let her have some space. 

“Alright, alright,” Jim spread his hands out in front of him. “Let’s leave you two to finish recuperating. We will have a meeting with the senior officers tomorrow at 0800.” He turned to Bones. “Is Spock free to go?” 

Bones nodded. “He never lost consciousness, just let his control slip. I think he can fix that better than anything I can do.”

“Indeed, Captain. I now realize that it was Amanda’s mind reaching out to the nearest familiar telepath. While I am not the man who raised her, her mind did not know the difference.” 

Although Spock said all of this in his normal cadence, Jim knew him well enough by now to hear the alarm in his voice. “Now that I have experienced her thoughts, I should be able to more effectively block them in the future should that be necessary.”

“I’m sorry, again, Commander,” Amanda looked next to tears. “I’m usually much better…”

Selik stiffened, and Jim got the impression that Amanda just lied. Although he was not sure why she would. 

“I am unharmed.” Spock said simply. “You need not apologize.”

“Okay, okay,” Bones started waving his hands at Jim and Spock. “Out, out. Let my patients rest.”

As Jim and Spock exited, Jim heard Amanda turn to her brother. “Will you help me meditate, Selik? I can’t—” And then he was out of earshot, which made him wonder if Spock was still listening. 

After they walked together toward their quarters for a few minutes, Jim finally spoke. “So, am I allowed to ask what you’re thinking about?” 

Spock ignored the illogical question and nodded slightly at his Captain.

“I am perplexed as to why my counterpart did not teach Amanda better emotional control,” Spock said, his brow furrowing. 

“Maybe it’s really hard for her…since she has my blood. That can’t be helpful for emotional control.” Jim laughed.

“Perhaps,” Spock admitted. 

“Well, you’re being a good dad then, showing all this concern,” Kirk let his shoulder bump into Spock’s, immediately regretting the action because it felt awkward once he did it. 

Spock stiffened. “I admit my concern is slightly beyond academic. While it is a fascinating scientific problem—that of Vulcan-human hybrids—I find myself…” Spock stopped speaking, obviously uncomfortable.

For the first time in Jim’s memory, Spock did not complete a thought.

“Are you a bit of a softie for children, Mister Spock?” 

Spock contained an eye roll and sighed at Jim’s colloquialisms. “I am not a ‘softie.’ My body is of expected density for my species, and it remains that way no matter the age of those around me.” 

Jim laughed. 

“I am going to retire to the science labs, Captain. If you require my presence, you can find me there.”

“Sure,” Jim nodded. “Spock, do we wanna talk about…about what we’re gonna tell the senior staff?”

Spock cocked his head. “I believed that we would simply inform them as to the situation. Was there something else you wanted to tell them?”

“Well, _no_ , but I feel like we should clarify. What if some of them think that we’re _together_?” Jim shrugged, suddenly wishing he had not spoken.

“I am assuming by the inflection in your voice that you mean together as in a romantic entanglement?” Spock’s face was deadpan, and Jim wished that he could tell what his First Officer was thinking.

“Well, yeah, that’s usually when people have kids right?” Jim shrugged. 

“Captain, you must not let their existence imply that a romantic entanglement will eventually occur between you and I. They could just as easily be from another reality.” 

Spock’s face was so emotionless that Kirk felt stupid for even asking anything. _Of course_ , Spock would be more horrified at the prospect of having children with him than Jim could ever be. After all, what could be worse than diluting that logical Vulcan blood with Kirk blood?

“Yeah,” Jim shrugged. “That’d be pretty terrible, I guess. Us together?”

Spock’s brown eyes wandered over Jim’s face. “Indeed, Captain. The height of illogic.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, willing himself not to feel slightly hurt. 

“If that is all, Captain?” Spock raised his eyebrows.

Jim nodded. “Yeah, yeah, see ya Mister Spock,”

Jim watched Spock walk away and forced himself not to imagine what a ‘romantic entanglement’ with Mister Spock would even be like.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up at the angst bat: Selik Kirk.

Jim should have known that word would get out before he addressed the senior officers. When he went to sickbay that evening to check on Amanda and Selik, there were far more people in this section of the ship than required.

“Ensign Mariana!” Kirk yelled to a girl from command that was giggling with three other ensigns. They were obviously looking into the sickbay for fuel for gossip.

At his voice they all straightened up remarkably fast, lining up at attention. 

“Yes Captain?” The girl asked, her face blushing. 

“What’s going on? Is there a flu going around I haven’t heard about? Usually people don’t visit sickbay en masse like this.”

“Uh, no, sir…we were just on our way to…uh, engineering for…uh…”

Kirk had pity on the girl and held up a hand for her to stop. “Just get back to your duties. And don’t spend your shifts annoying people who are trying to recover from injuries, okay? Dismissed.”

The ensigns nodded vigorously and scurried away. A few other eavesdroppers also surreptitiously made their way away from the area. 

When Kirk went into the sickbay, only Selik was present. He was engrossed in something on a PADD.

“Selik?” Kirk asked, smiling brightly at him. 

The boy’s eyebrows lifted, and he sat his PADD down. 

“Hello, Captain Kirk.” 

“How are you doing?” Jim strolled casually to the foot of Selik’s bed and let his eyes peruse the boy’s vital signs. Although, as soon as he read the numbers he realized that Selik’s baseline was probably unique to Selik. So any numbers meant next to nothing to Kirk.

“I am healing sufficiently, Captain. It is…unsettling to lack my familial bonds. But as I still have Amanda, I find that I am _grounded_ by her continuing presence. I believe I should operate at around ninety percent efficiency by the morning.”

“I’m glad.” Kirk ran a hand through is hair. “So where’s Amanda?”

“Well,” Selik’s eyes skirted over Kirk’s. “She has taken leave to the restroom.” The boy’s voice was uncomfortable. 

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Jim asked, grinning widely.

“Indeed. I have always been terrible at lying.” Selik grimaced. “I attempt to ‘cover’ for my sister, but she should really know better.”

Jim laughed. “She’s a handful, huh?”

“You do not even have a slight idea, Captain.” Selik’s eyes glimmered with amusement. 

Kirk turned when he heard the hiss of the sickbay door opening. Amanda came strolling in. Her hair had been cleaned and brushed. Her Vulcan eyebrows were completely hidden, and her hair was tied back in a long braid that also covered her ears. She wore science blues, and as she stood there at attention with no expression on her face, she looked like Spock.

Then she grinned. “Hello Captain.”

“Hey, Amanda. I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Yes, Captain.” Amanda strolled over, obviously unrepentant for sneaking out. 

“Where did you go?” 

“ _Well_ , I tried to stay still, meditate, but I’m really terrible at staying still. So I decided to sneak some clothes and look around. The Enterprise has changed a lot in 18 years.” Amanda was bouncing on her toes. 

“Eighteen years?” Jim wished his voice wouldn’t squeak sometimes. “So I’d have been…oh god, only a few years from now? Really?”

“Amanda,” Selik groaned her name. 

“Woops,” she shrugged. “Sorry. I mean, I obviously determined what year it was as soon as possible. And we still don’t know if our Dad is you, Captain. If you’re not even with Father right now, there’s no way in only two years…right?”

“I have determined that the historical facts of which I am aware are also facts in this reality,” Selik said. 

“Still,” Amanda shrugged.

Jim held his head. “Will there come a time when being around you two doesn’t give me a headache?”

“Are you experiencing physiological systems, Captain?” Selik jumped out of bed and walked toward Jim. “Perhaps the Commander was not the only one who was injured by our arrival.”

“No, no,” Jim stepped away from Selik, still a little bit weirded out by his presence. 

Selik’s face crumpled for a moment before falling into Vulcan impassiveness. He put his hands behind his back and stood at attention.

“Sorry,” Jim offered weakly. “I only meant the headache comes from all of the thinking. You can…at ease, Selik.” 

Selik frowned.

Amanda laughed. “He’s not standing at attention. He’s just…being him.”

“Right,” Jim said, feeling culturally insensitive with a kid who looked exactly like him. “Sorry. The…you look so much like…I’m sorry. I’m terrible at this.”

“I do not take offense, Captain.” Selik seemed to make an effort to look relaxed but was largely unsuccessful. 

“Listen, I just came by to check on you, but if you’re both up and about, you can come to the mess with me. I was just about to grab dinner.” Jim shrugged at them.

“Doctor McCoy would protest.”

Jim strolled over and knocked on the doctor’s office door. “Boooonnneees, can I take my kids to dinner?” 

Bones opened the door with a haggard expression. “They’re on bedrest,” he growled.

“Amanda’s been out for an unspecified amount of time, actually. Selik’s been a good little patient, but I think they’re both fine to go. We won’t do anything strenuous, just eat dinner, I promise.”

When Bones looked around the corner, Amanda’s face was the epitome of a puppy-dog, while Selik, as usual, revealed very little. 

Bones sighed, looking at them with the same defeated expression that he gave Jim at least once a week. 

“Fine,” he leaned out of his office and pointed to the children. “But eat something healthy. You’ve both got terrible genes for cholesterol.” 

When they got to the mess hall, the place was packed with Starfleet officers, and Jim realized that Beta shift was taking their meal break right now. 

“It’s quite odd,” Amanda commented. “I recognize so many of these people, but everyone is so young.” 

Jim smiled over at her. “Glad to know the Enterprise stays together. Even if you are from an alternate dimension.” He clapped his hands together. “Well, you guys know how to use replicators I’m guessing. So just go at it, and I’ll find a place to sit.”

While Jim obtained food—a hamburger, which Bones would hate—he set about finding a place to sit. He decided the bridge crew would be best. 

“Hey guys,” he said, greeting Chekov, Sulu, and Uhura.

“Hey Captain,” Sulu nodded. “You’ve brought those kids from the transporter room. I know we got the all clear, but is everything alright?”

“It’s a little complicated,” Jim admitted. “But we’ll explain everything tomorrow morning at the meeting Spock and I have called. For now…just let the kids have a break. They’ve had a very taxing day.”

He saw Selik and Amanda approaching. They were conversing in low tones. Amanda’s Vulcan heritage was as invisible as Selik’s with her current hairstyle, so they weren’t attracting much attention from the other crewmembers. Only a few curious glances here and there.

“And, I know it’s hard to tell, but they both have, uh, Vulcan heritage, so don’t go touching them unnecessarily or anything.” Jim intentionally said this just as the children were arriving so that his shocked bridge-crew members couldn’t comment or ask questions. 

“Well, kids, this is Ensign Chekov, Lieutenant Sulu, and Lieutenant Uhura,” Jim said, pointing each of them out.

“Hello,” Selik offered, his expression flat.

“Hey,” Amanda said easily, smiling at some joke of her own. She eased next to Uhura and continued looking generally jovial. 

Uhura was staring at the girl like she had seven heads.

Selik sat after Jim did and scooted as far to the edge of the bench as he could. 

“So how was exploration today?” Amanda asked, taking a large bite of what looked like…a _hamburger_. Weren’t Vulcans vegetarian?

“Um,” Sulu said eloquently, staring at the hamburger. 

“Aside from ze incident in ze transporter room, this day was boring,” Chekov told her. 

“Sorry about the intrusion. Selik and I are usually very good kids,” Amanda said, smiling across the table at her brother. 

Selik rolled his eyes. “One of us anyway.”

“Selik?” Uhura asked. “That’s a very interesting name.”

“What does it mean?” Jim asked, suddenly very curious.

“It is derived from a time when Vulcans worshiped stars, long ago. Selik means ‘from the soul of a star.’” Uhura smiled at him. “A very nice name.”

“The name was a logical choice as I was born of spacefarers,” Selik said, nodding at Uhura shortly before returning to his food. He was eating some sort of sickly looking soup that Jim thought he had seen Spock eat before. 

Jim wondered if anyone was considering how much Selik looked like him. Surely they must. But his bridge crew had always been good at handling shocking events in stride. Certainly better than him sometimes. 

“What about you? What’s your name?” Uhura asked Amanda.

The girl hesitated, sensing that Uhura would probably recognize the significance of the name Amanda. Jim suddenly realized that he had not even considered Uhura in all of this. Was she still engaged in whatever counted as a romantic relationship with Spock? Would Spock be in deep trouble for something he might do in the future? Shit.

“My name is Amanda T’Karik,” she answered. If Uhura found the girl’s name interesting, she did a good job of hiding it. “Amanda, ‘the strong lady.’ I always liked it. My parents said I was born breaking anything I could get my hands on, so it fit.”

Jim could imagine a baby Amanda in Spock’s arms, grabbing his PADD and cracking it through the middle. Spock would have that exasperated but fond look in those brown eyes. Yeah, that was a cute as hell picture. 

When Jim brought himself back to reality, Spock was standing at the edge of the table, looking at the children with a frown.

“I believed Amanda and Selik to be on bed rest,” he said. 

“I was bored,” Amanda told him.

“Captain Kirk convinced Doctor McCoy to let us go to dinner, with the understanding that we would not partake in anything physically taxing or high in cholesterol.” Selik looked pointedly at Amanda’s burger.

Spock also cocked an eyebrow at her burger.

“It’s a veggie burger, Jesus,” Amanda grumbled. 

Selik sighed at her. 

Spock took his seat on the other side of Uhura. He was eating the same soup that Selik was. As Uhura whispered a comment to Spock, Jim found himself watching them for any sign of their relationship status. 

Amanda was looking at Jim when he finally glanced away from Spock and Uhura. Her eyes were full of understanding and sympathy. 

No, no, he didn’t need sympathy. He was just curious. He smiled brightly at her, trying to dispel any worry.

The rest of lunch progressed seamlessly. Amanda was a charming and engaging individual, with Selik offering smart remarks every so often, usually at his sister’s expense. 

When Sulu and Chekov departed, they both waved jovially at Amanda. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Amanda T’Karik,” Sulu told her. “And you too, Selik.”

Amanda waved happily back, while Selik nodded gravely. 

As soon as they were gone, Uhura’s face became serious. “Will you guys tell me what’s going on?” 

Jim’s heart started beating fast. 

“To what are you referring, Lieutenant?” Spock glanced over at her. 

“Two Vulcan kids, one who looks like Kirk and the other with your mom’s name?” Uhura rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid.” 

“I—” Jim started, and then had no idea what to say. He really didn’t want Uhura mad at him for something he wasn’t even sure would happen.

“They’re yours and Spock’s?” Uhura raised her eyebrows at Jim.

“Yeah,” Amanda said for him. “We are. But we’re not sure if we’re from the future of this timeline or an alternate one.”

Uhura looked back and forth between Jim and Spock. “You guys?”

“Maybe not?” Kirk offered, his voice a little too high pitched. “I mean, it seems more likely they’re from another timeline? Heaven knows we’ve had plenty of experience with alternate timelines.”

He wasn’t even certain he sounded convincing, but he didn’t want Spock to be in trouble with his girlfriend.

“Captain, if you’re worried about offending me, don’t. Spock and I ended our relationship a while ago.”

Kirk’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Uhura said, smiling at him. “It’s alright.”

“Well, uh,” Kirk looked down at his food. “I mean, we aren’t together or anything.”

“Indeed, Nyota. The Captain and I are only friends. And we _have_ had a statistically higher rate of incidences with alternate realities than the average being in the Federation.”

Amanda was smiling down at her plate, and Jim knew which theory she believed.

“Well, I’ll help you guys break it to everyone else tomorrow morning.” Uhura smiled at Jim, and he was suddenly so, so grateful for Uhura’s friendship. She looked over at the children. “And if either of you need anything, please just ask.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Selik said stiffly.

Amanda grinned. “If you want any help at the communication station, I’m brilliant at it.”

“I’ll remember that.” Uhura laughed. 

“I believe it might be wise for the children to get some rest, as they are still recuperating from injury,” Spock said. His face was yet again unreadable as he watched Nyota and Amanda. 

“Yeah,” Jim smiled. “We’ll get you guys a room, and I can come get you tomorrow for the meeting.”

“That sounds most logical, Captain,” Selik intoned.

Uhura laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Amanda, you are being quite illogical,” Selik said, letting a bit of his exasperation into his voice.

His sister had scissors in one hand and her bangs held straight with her fingers in the other. She was cutting her hair. 

“I’m just having a bit of fun,” she said.

“You are attempting to attract attention to yourself,” he said. 

“It’s not attention if it’s just me being me, Selik.”

She had informed him of her plan when she awoke that morning. She was already wearing the black slacks and blue Starfleet science uniform. And now she was cutting her bangs short, so that they fell in the traditional Vulcan cut. Her curved eyebrows were not only visible now, but extremely obvious. 

“Your attempt to explain this as simple self expression is quite unbelievable.”

“If you get to look like Dad, then I want to look as much like Father as possible. It’ll be fun. Not many Vulcans on the Enterprise right now,” Amanda told him. Her grin showed her obvious excitement.

“You are unnecessarily drawing attention to yourself. We want to make as little impact as possible on this time period.” 

Selik was not adapting to this Enterprise as well as his sister. She found this entertaining, and he could sense that she deeply believed that they would find their way home eventually. 

Selik was unconvinced. He was overcome with guilt every time he considered what he might have done to the transporter. Emotions were clouding his ability to clearly determine what mistake he must have made.

He needed to meditate desperately, but Amanda’s disordered thoughts and emotions kept invading his mental space every time he tried. When he started blocking her, he felt un-tethered. Until he got used to his loss of familial bonds, he could not bring himself to block the only one he had left. 

“Half the ship is already spreading rumors, Selik. Do you know how many people meandered by the sickbay while we were there?” Amanda was braiding her hair in what Selik recognized as a traditional Vulcan hairstyle. “Everyone is talking about the Captain’s little clone who transported aboard.”

Selik sensed hurt in her, and he sighed. She was so difficult and illogical sometimes. “Amanda, it is illogical to be offended. Your physical genetic traits favor Father, while mine favor Dad. Making yourself look more like Commander Spock will only make us more of a spectacle.”

“I’m _not_ doing this to look more like Father.” Amanda whirled on him, and Selik was slightly impressed that she managed to continue braiding without looking in the mirror. 

She was lying. Selik knew she was lying, and Amanda knew that he knew. Why did she insist on lying when she knew he could tell? Illogical. 

“That is exactly what you are doing at this very moment.”

“Okay, I mean, I am doing this to look more Vulcan, but I’m not doing it just because you look like Dad.”

“As you say.” Selik shrugged, letting her do what she will. 

“You could wear command yellow, Selik. It would really round out my costume.” Amanda grinned at him before turning back to the mirror. 

“I will remain in these clothes, as it is more appropriate. I am not a member of Starfleet.”

He was still technically wearing Starfleet clothing, but he was wearing the black undershirt with black slacks. It was a far more appropriate outfit for someone who was not enlisted. 

“Or I could cut your hair, show off those Vulcan ears of yours. Then you’d look less like Dad.” 

Amanda finished the complex knot she formed at the back of her skull. Her pointed ears curved perfectly over a loop of braid that encircled her head. 

“I have no desire to ‘show off’ anything, Amanda.” 

“Fine, fine.” Amanda shrugged. 

She stiffened her posture and held her hands behind her back. She spun on Selik. “Do I look appropriately logical, brother?” 

Her voice was clear of emotion, and Selik resisted feeling like she was mocking him. 

“You look Vulcan,” he told her. 

“Well, this will prove to be quite an entertaining experiment,” she turned back to the mirror and grinned at her own reflection. 

At exactly 0730, a knock came at the door. Amanda schooled her expression into one of mild disinterest. It bothered Selik that switching between Vulcan and Human seemed so easy to her. He tried to dismiss the emotion, but his lack of meditation was wearing thin on his controls. 

“Hey guys, it’s the Captain…I mean, uh, it’s Jim.” His voice was muffled by the door.

Selik stood and slid the door open. 

The Captain stood there bouncing on his toes, his command gold slightly rumpled. Father always made their Dad iron his clothes in the mornings before going to work. Selik thought it was more logical to arrive at work looking as professional as possible.

Commander Spock stood behind Kirk, his face solemn and controlled. Selik instinctually reached out for him with his mind but pulled back when he realized what he was doing. 

Spock looked up at him briefly, but Selik could not determine if he had accidentally made telepathic contact.

“Hello Captain,” Selik greeted. He redoubled his emotional control. “Hello Commander.”

“Are you ready—” Kirk stopped when he looked over Selik’s shoulder. “Uh, what’s going on here?” 

Selik turned and looked at his sister, who was standing with her arms held behind her back. She looked at them calmly. Selik found himself feeling disoriented looking at her. He wanted everything to get back to normal as soon as possible.

“Hello Captain, Commander,” Amanda inclined her head. 

“I…is this what she normally looks like?” Captain Kirk’s eyebrows were raised.

“Quite the contrary, Captain. Amanda believes she is being humorous,” Selik said. He knew he was letting his distaste show. 

Amanda grinned. The Captain laughed. “You two are never boring, are you?” 

“By Kirk standards, I consider my life to be quite boring. I find I prefer boring,” Selik told him. 

Spock was watching Amanda with what Selik knew was warmth. As with his Father at home, Spock found the genetic manifestation of his mother to be striking in Selik’s sister.

Selik did not really understand the sentiment, but looking at his parents who were not his parents, he thought he could start to understand. He found himself, illogically, missing his parents when he saw these people who looked just like them.

“We will be late if we do not depart now,” Commander Spock said, glancing away from Amanda. 

As they walked to the meeting, Selik and Amanda followed the Captain and Commander silently. Amanda was staying in her ‘costume.’ She was mimicking their Father perfectly. 

Selik found it illogically grating. 

Every crewmember that passed watched them with wide eyes. Selik desired something with which to cover his person. At least on their Enterprise, everyone knew who he was. He did not appreciate the attention in the slightest.

If he had been able to successfully meditate, this would be far more tolerable.

The meeting was to take place in the Captain’s ready room. Selik had been there before, but he had never been the topic of discussion. He reinforced what mental shields he had left as they strode into the room.

As before in the mess hall, Selik recognized nearly everyone. These were the people who had helped raise him. Commander Uhura had taught him linguistics. Commander Scott taught him engineering and chemistry. Captain Sulu had taught him combat before getting his own ship. Selik had learned calculus and physics from Lieutenant Commander Chekov before he left with Sulu. Even most of the other senior staff assembled had played some role in his life, whether as a mentor or babysitter.

Selik and Amanda had been just as much the Enterprise’s children as Spock and Kirk’s.

But now he looked at these people, and they were not his family. Just like the Captain and Commander, they were foreign, not quite right yet. 

He knew this was logical. They were not yet the people he knew. People changed throughout their lives, and these had not experienced all that his people had. 

Although he knew this was logical and that treating them like strangers would be the best course of action, he found it to be incredibly difficult.

Selik had not realized how much he had grown to rely on his family. It was distressing. 

“Well, everyone, I don’t know what all you’ve heard,” Jim smiled at the group. “But we’ve got a bit of a pickle.”

Commander Spock guided Selik and Amanda to two empty seats near the Captain. Spock sat next to Selik. His eyes were on the Captain as he began addressing the rest of the senior crew.

Amanda was still ‘being Vulcan,’ so she had a similarly attentive expression as she watched Kirk. 

“As most of you know, at 1000 hours yesterday morning, we had an unauthorized teleportation. As some of you saw, these are the two children who beamed aboard the ship. Their names are Selik and Amanda. As you may have guessed, they harbor no ill will toward us, and in fact, are only here on accident.”

Selik repressed his guilt again, trying to deal with it and let it go. 

“We aren’t entirely certain how they came to be here, but we’ll want the best minds in the ship on this. Commander Spock and Commander Scott, we’ll need folks from both Sciences and Engineering. Something happened with our teleporter. I want to know what and how to reverse it.”

 _Ensign_ Chekov raised his hand. 

“Yes, Ensign?”

“Where are ze from?” Chekov smiled at both of them. 

“Unknown,” Commander Spock said. “However, they are either from our future or an alternate timeline to our current one.”

“And I guess the real kicker is who they are exactly,” the Captain said, slowly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Their parents are Commander Spock and Captain Kirk. Whether that is _us_ or alternate-reality us is yet to be determined.” 

Everyone began talking among themselves, and Selik intentionally did not try to isolate any voice in particular.

“Selik, do you find it disorienting to see so many of the crew of our Enterprise functioning as if they have never seen us?” Amanda asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” he said simply, and glanced to her. “And stop vocalizing in a manner that mimics my own. I find it distressing.”

Amanda’s eyebrows raised, but she showed no other expression. “Is the almighty Selik admitting emotion?” 

Selik turned to her sharply. “My strength is not above average. I have no superfluous ‘might.’ And further, I am not the one who ignores my emotional needs.” 

When Selik turned from her, he saw Spock watching them but ignored the Commander and his sister.

Kirk was trying to settle people down. “Hey guys, let’s bring it back in. I know this is all a little weird.”

Lieutenant Uhura was smiling up at Kirk in a manner meant to be supportive, and Selik frowned in her direction. It had been unsettling to learn that Father had dated her. He saw no logic in engaging in a romantic relationship with her. She was not Vulcan nor was she _t’hy’la_. How had his father dealt with dating _two_ Humans?

He had a great deal of affection for his Dad, but that did not mean he completely understood how Spock dealt with him as a bondmate. 

“We do not intend to disrupt your daily routines for the duration of our time here,” Amanda said, with a firm monotone voice.

Everyone looked her way. Those who had met her usually boisterous self the day before were watching her in confusion. 

Selik’s mind filled with frustration again.

Some of the senior officers were looking at him, perhaps expecting him to speak. He avoided their eyes and stared at the glossy black table in front of him. 

“Are you going to report this to the ‘fleet, Captain?” someone from security asked.

“I’ll maybe send some whispers to a friendly admiral or two. I’m trying not to get on anyone’s bad side these days.” Kirk leaned forward on the table, and Selik watched his knuckles turn white. “I’ll make a full formal report in a week if we aren’t able to get them home. We’ll take things from there if we’re out of options.”

“That sounds like a logical plan, Captain,” Amanda said. 

Selik did not know why, but her clipped sharp tone quite suddenly sent him over the edge. 

“Amanda! Stop it!” His voice rose just as he stood from his chair. This was the fifth time in his entire memory that he had ever spoke at this decibel. 

Everyone turned to look at him. He ignored them and stared at his sister.

“You are being a child. You need to focus on our current predicament. Your games are illogical!”

A hand brushed his elbow, and he yanked it away. He was almost certain it was Commander Spock.

“Selik, I’m sorry.” Amanda’s voice had softened. She was looking at him like he had lost his mind. Selik believed she might be correct.

“You spend more time with your jokes than meditating or working or anything of use! I am tired of being in your mind!” His vocal cords were already sore.

“Then block me,” she said, softly. 

“I…” Selik paused. “I believe I shall endeavor to do that.” 

Then he turned and fled from the room, away from his family who were not his family, away from his sister who could not calm her mind, and away from his parents who looked at him like a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selik/Spock fluffies coming :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, there's a bit of mind meld inception in this chapter.
> 
> I worry I'm gonna make all of you guys hate Amanda. She's a bit of a brat in this chapter, but eh, kids are kids. 
> 
> Up at the fluffy bat: Selik and Spock

Spock had sensed Selik’s outburst before it happened. He had felt the boy beginning to project, but he had not known what to do.

Spock had never dealt with Vulcan children like this before. He had never dealt with Vulcan-Human hybrid children and the complex emotional landscape that entailed. His only source of information was his own childhood, which admittedly was not ideal.

However, when Selik abruptly left the room, Spock felt that he knew enough to know to follow him. 

“Captain, may I be excused?” Spock asked Captain Kirk. Kirk must see that Selik needed assistance right now, and Spock felt he was the logical choice to provide that help.

“Of course, Commander,” Kirk said, his face blank, obviously still surprised by the Vulcan boy’s outburst. 

When Spock got to the hallway, Selik was nowhere to be seen. After considering for a moment, he had a promising hypothesis as to the boy’s location. 

When he reached the observation deck, he was not even slightly surprised to see the young boy sitting on the ground facing the windows, watching space stretch out before him. His blonde head was held high and contrasted starkly against the black Starfleet undershirt.

“Selik, might I join you?” Spock said, trying to project calmness. However, he believed Selik was shielding his mind.

“Affirmative,” Selik said without surprise. “How did you locate me, Commander?”

“This is one of my favorite rooms in which to meditate,” Spock told him in a low voice. “I know it is illogical to have a ‘favorite’ place. One should be able to find peace in one’s mind regardless of location. However, I believe the Human side of me to play a role in this phenomenon.” 

Spock walked slowly over to the boy and gently lowered himself next to him. “I imagined that we might have this in common, as you were obviously raised aboard the Enterprise.”

“Yes, Commander,” Selik confirmed. His shoulders were stiff. 

“You may call me Spock. I know that I am not familiar with you, but it seems illogical for those who share genetic code to address one another by formal titles.” 

“You call your father Ambassador sometimes,” Selik pointed out. 

Spock suppressed a smile. “I suppose that is true. However, I am not my Father.”

“No, you are not,” Selik agreed. 

They sat in silence for a while. Spock still sensed that Selik was blocking his mind from intrusion. He did not want to press the boy into revealing any emotions he did not wish, so Spock just watched the stars with him for a while. 

He was reminded of times on Vulcan, when he and his mother would watch the stars and identify galaxies. They had always enjoyed finding Earth together. His mother would tell him that he was unique because some of his genes came from those stars. 

Of course, it was an illogical sentiment. His genes came from a planet among those stars, not the stars themselves. However, he supposed the atoms that made up his genetic code once came from stars, so the romantic notion could still hold. 

“Would you benefit from discussing what occurred in the Captain’s ready room?” Spock finally asked.

Selik stiffened more. He was silent for a while before speaking in a strained voice.

“I have not been able to meditate successfully since my arrival. While one day would usually not affect my mind, the telepathic injury has left my thoughts disordered.”

Selik looked over at him. Those blue Kirk eyes were filled with distress. “My bond centers are like raw wounds, and my sister’s mind is like a hurricane. If I block her, I feel like I have nothing tethering me to reality. I cannot meditate with her there, but I cannot center myself without her.” 

“A vivid picture,” Spock commented.

“I sometimes find visual imagery more emotionally descriptive than quantitative data,” Selik admitted, looking ashamed.

Spock wondered if his other self had instilled that shame in this boy. 

“Sometimes the emotions one feels are difficult to decipher. It is why both Vulcans and Humans alike turned to art to express those emotions.” 

“Yes,” Selik agreed. 

Spock hesitated before he placed a gentle hand on Selik’s shoulder. Rather than stiffening more, the boy relaxed a bit. 

“Selik, I know we are not family. But I will attempt to assist your meditation, if you wish. It would be no trouble for me.” 

Selik turned to him with a pained expression. “I do not wish to subject you to my mind, Spock.” 

“Block what you do not desire for me to see. I believe you require my help. There is no shame in this. You have endured what takes some Vulcans years from which to recover.” Spock watched the boy closely. “When I lost my bond to my mother, I lashed out. I lost control. I nearly choked the Captain to death.” 

“You…?” Selik frowned. “I did not know this.”

“It is unwise to let the emotions of a Vulcan control him.” 

“If you were to ask my sister, she would tell you that I am not a real Vulcan.” Selik shrugged.

“I cannot speak to what your mind is like, Selik.” Spock’s heart ached a little as he was reminded of taunts he heard as a child. He wished that his own insecurities had not been passed on to this blonde-haired boy before him.

Spock continued, “However, you have Vulcan blood, and you desire the comfort of logic. That is enough.”

Selik nodded, his lips were tight. “I could use your assistance, if it would not trouble you. I do not want to lose control again.” 

“I am pleased to offer the help. Would you like to try now?” Spock watched the boy’s profile.

Selik nodded. He turned to Spock and shifted his position to a more traditional meditation pose. He met Spock’s gaze.

He looked so much like Captain Kirk in that moment that Spock’s breath caught. And yet this child’s disposition was nothing like the Captain. Where the Captain was always motion and talking and laughing, Selik was stillness and contemplation and consideration.

Spock could not describe how _precious_ he found this mix. How utterly unique it was to see the golden hair of Captain Kirk on such a serious person. This was something to be cherished.

For the first time in his life, he understood what his mother meant when she had called him precious, when she had called him beautifully unique. 

Spock shook these thoughts from his head and mimicked Selik’s pose. 

“I will initiate a meld, but I will leave its depth to your control. Is this acceptable, Selik?” Spock found himself feeling illogically nervous. The last mind meld he had initiated had been almost a year ago, and it had not been under ideal circumstances. 

“Affirmative,” Selik nodded. “I may need your help keeping control, Comman—Spock.” 

Spock nodded and let his fingers find Selik’s psi points. “My mind to your mind,” Spock whispered, in Vulcan.

Selik joined him for the last words, also in smooth Vulcan, “My thoughts to your thoughts.”

And then Spock’s mind plummeted. He was suddenly surrounded, engulfed in a foreign, and yet familiar, mental landscape. It took every ounce of his mental strength to stop the meld from escaping his control. 

_Sorry! Sorry!_ Selik’s alarmed voice was everywhere. _My mind recognizes you._

_It is alright. I should have foreseen that. I have control now._

_Okay._

Spock took a moment to collect himself, to clear his own thoughts. It would do Selik no good if his mind were another source of chaos. 

The first conclusion he drew from Selik’s mind was that it was quite similar to his own. He understood the feel of it, perhaps slightly less organized, but he understood that while Selik looked so _Human_ his mind was remarkably more Vulcan. 

_It is because I have ordered it so._

_Human minds do not find this kind of order._

Selik did not respond, but Spock sensed his disbelief. 

Spock guided him through clearing his mind, and Selik was obviously skilled at the meditation. When the boy stumbled, felt less grounded, Spock offered his own mind as a sort of base upon which to rebuild control. For a Vulcan, it was an incredibly intimate act. But Selik’s mind did not feel so foreign, and therefore the meditation did not feel wrong.

Selik blocked his memories from Spock as best he could, but Spock would still catch glimpses of a version of himself that did not exist yet. The Captain was similarly featured, but Spock avoided those memories as well.

When they reached Selik’s bond centers, Spock winced mentally.

 _It is unpleasant._ Selik’s mental voice was hesitant.

 _Yes._ Spock felt it too. Any mind was built upon certain bases, certain truths. One of the commonalities among many sentient beings in the universe was the truth of family, the truth of companionship among those who were closest to you, whether that be via blood or choice. 

Vulcans had a more physical manifestation of those truths, in the form of bonds. Selik’s were gone. 

Spock imagined a physical manifestation of himself in Selik’s mind, and Selik did likewise. They stood between broken roots of two large trees. One was an old oak tree that was native to Terra. The other was the stump of a tree that had grown natively on Vulcan-that-was.

 _Your parents?_ Spock’s mental voice was reverent. 

Spock sensed that this was indeed the broken bonds that had once belonged to Selik’s parents, although Selik remained silent. 

Then they moved, the mental landscape a swirl of color as Selik led them elsewhere, and they were standing before a large metal door. 

Spock stepped forward and touched it softly. 

He jerked his hand away. It was hot. 

_Amanda._ Selik’s mind offered. 

_Your mind perceives hers as painful?_

_Sometimes. She has been particularly difficult since we arrived in this time period. Last night she had achieved a level of calmness that was no longer present by this morning._

Spock considered this, looking at the heavy metal door in front of him. _Would she be willing to take my help in meditation as well?_

Selik mentally hesitated. _I do not know._

The boy’s mind started skimming over memories again, and Spock tried to block him. 

Then, as when he first entered Selik’s mind, Spock lost control and started tumbling again. He fell into a memory…

He was small, very small. The Enterprise felt like a planet to him, and he was just a tiny speck as he toddled down the hallway. 

His mind was distressed.

Spock/Selik recognized the hallway as the one near the transporter room. 

“Daddy?” his little voice called. 

The Captain/Daddy glanced out into the hallway. “Selik?! What are you doing here, buddy?” 

Selik responded by putting his arms up.

Daddy picked him up, and Selik snuggled into the Captain’s neck. 

“Where is _sa’mekh_?” Selik’s small mouth garbled the Vulcan, but it was passable.

“He’s fine, sweetie,” Kirk’s voice was gentle. He ran his fingers down Selik’s back. It was soothing, warm, calm.

“I cannot feel him in my mind,” Selik told him. “Has something happened?”

“He lost his communicator, but we sent a whole team of people after him. He’ll be fine, bud.” Kirk’s voice was utterly calm, although revisiting the memory, Selik/Spock could sense that he was projecting calmness a little too forcefully.

“Dad?” A softer voice spoke from the door.

Selik turned to see his sister. She was thinner than Selik, all bones and angles, but she was taller than him. He was jealous of her height. At this age, she wore her hair short, with the short Vulcan bangs. The tips of her ears stuck out from her pigtails she wore that day. 

“Yeah, honey?” Dad was obviously frustrated. “You two have to stop running away from your babysitters.”

“But Father,” she said. “He feels sad.”

“You can feel him?” Kirk asked, brow furrowing. 

Amanda nodded. 

“But I cannot,” Selik protested. Was he broken? Why could he not feel Father too?

“Well you’re not a real Vulcan,” Amanda shrugged at him. “You don’t even have the eyebrows.”

Selik started crying at that. “Daddy, am I broken?” 

“No, sweetie,” Dad pressed a soft kiss to his head. “Amanda, don’t say that.”

“Why can’t I feel him?” Selik was whimpering now, tears streaking down his face. 

“Come on, let’s you and I focus and see if we can find him, buddy. Hold on a sec.” Kirk did not put Selik down as he went over to the transporter console. Selik would not have let him anyway.

Uncle Scotty was staring at the screen in front of him.

“Do you have Spock, Scotty?” Kirk leaned over Uncle Scotty’s shoulder. Selik’s eyes took in the words and numbers on the console, but everything was too blurry through the liquid in his eyes.

“Aye, Captain. His communicator stopped working, but I found him with his tri-corder.” Uncle Scotty looked up at Selik and smiled. “I’ll have your pappy back in no time, laddie. It’ll be just another second.”

Dad smiled down at him. “See, Selik? Father will be right back.” 

Selik was still teary eyed, worried in a way that only a small child could be. He was gripping the yellow command shirt tight in his fingers.

“I have an idea,” Daddy said, smiling softly at him. “Come here.”

He pulled Selik closer and held his son’s head to his own, letting their temples touch. It was not like melding with Father. The link between he and his Dad was weak and tenuous but allowed for a shallow meld.

Dad started looking for Father, but inside of his own mind. Selik could sense the bond, like golden rope shining brightly and rooted in Dad’s mind. Dad tugged at the rope and then… _Father_. 

He could feel his Father in his Dad’s mind! He could not talk to him, but there was no doubt that Father was aware of them both and that he was _alive._

Dad released him from the bond. Selik’s face was still wet with old tears, but he felt marginally better.

“See, Selik? Father will be right back.” 

Just then, the transporter sprang alive, and Selik jerked his head around just as Spock materialized on the pad. He was covered in dirt and his hair was sticking out in multiple directions.

Selik sensed his Dad’s alarm at Father’s disheveled state, but Selik did not care at that moment. 

He squirmed from his Dad’s arms and went running for the transporter. All of Selik’s one-meter tall body slammed into his Father’s legs. He wrapped himself as close to him as he could get.

“Selik?” Spock’s voice was gentle. He reached down and picked the boy up.

“I could not find you in my head.” Selik was crying again. His arms were tight around his Father’s neck. _Safe, safe, safe._

“I am here,” Father said. “I am sorry. I was among telepathic species. I had to block my mind.”

“I could find you!” Amanda said from behind him. His hearing was muffled because his head was buried in the warm, blue bundle of Spock’s uniform. “Selik couldn’t because he’s not a real Vulcan.”

“Amanda, I said stop it,” Dad’s voice got louder. That meant he was very angry. 

“But—” Amanda started.

“You’re grounded if you talk anymore,” Dad snapped at her.

Selik was crying again in small hiccups in his Father’s arms. The older Vulcan placed gentle hands against Selik’s psi points and started murmuring softly to his son. 

“Calm, little one.” His Father projected calm, organized logic into his mind. _I am here. I am safe. You are here. We are here together._

He felt safe. He had absolute faith that the man who held him could do no wrong.

Selik calmed… 

Spock jerked himself from the memory and quickly from the mind meld. Too quickly. His consciousness had to reorient so fast that he felt nausea. 

He had no words for what he had just seen. Some emotion was rising in his chest, and he had to force it down, had to focus. 

“I apologize,” Selik intoned.

Spock’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice. Selik’s gaze was even, controlled.

“Why did that occur?” Spock asked, his voice far more settled than he was.

Selik looked down. “That memory is important to me. And I believe it is there, near my bond centers, as it forms a basis of my mind.”

Spock found it difficult to think of anything but the warmth of the hug Selik had given him in that memory. 

“What is the importance?” 

Selik’s blue eyes found him. “That is when I decided to be just like my Father.”

Spock could not look away. He could hardly even think. He felt _emotionally compromised._

“Because of your sister?” Spock asked. His chest ached again, but he believed he had his expression under control. 

“No,” Selik shook his head. “Because you were so calm. You felt _safe_. That is what I wanted to feel.”

“I see,” Spock said. He did not know what else to say. 

“I have distressed you,” Selik observed. 

He almost lied, but he could still feel Selik’s faith in him. “I have not experienced the familial emotions expressed in that memory in a long time.”

Selik watched him and visibly hesitated before placing a hand on Spock’s shoulder. “I grieve with thee, Spock.” 

Spock nodded. He could not feel any emotional transference through the touch, but it seeped through him just the same. 

“Your assistance is appreciated,” Selik told him, removing his hand. “I can think more clearly. This will hopefully expedite discovering my error that led my sister and I here.”

Spock appreciated the divergence in topic. He took the opportunity to stand, and Selik stood with him. “We can meet later this evening to discuss your transporter project.”

“That is acceptable. Shall I meet you in the science labs?” Selik’s shoulders were less tense now, and he appeared far more comfortable in Spock’s presence.

“Affirmative.”

“I believe I shall retire to my temporary quarters for a while,” Selik told him. 

“That is logical,” Spock agreed. He wished to do the same.

Selik left the observation deck, leaving Spock alone in the room. Now that Selik was gone, he let himself lean against the table behind him. 

The emotions in his head were nothing that he could not handle. But the first step of controlling your emotions was confronting them.

 _Desire_ is what Spock identified immediately. He desired what he had felt in that memory.

Spock had never fully considered having children. He had thought about procreation and the logic or illogic therein, but he had never considered what it would actually entail. He had not considered that there would be yelling and crying and hugging. 

He felt that he should be appalled by this prospect, and he thought he might have been had he not experienced that memory. 

The force of the desire for Selik to be his son made it difficult to consider any other feeling. It was illogical, but he knew it was true.

He pulled out his communicator and keyed in the Captain’s code.

“Kirk here.”

“Captain, this is Commander Spock.” He made sure his voice was even as usual. 

“Commander! It’s been almost two hours. Is Selik alright?” Spock had not realized how long he had been in the meditative state with Selik.

“Affirmative, Captain.”

“The meeting is over now. I called it almost right after you guys left. Bones wanted me to tell you to check in with him so he knew everything was okay.”

“I will do so.”

“Amanda’s freaking out I think. I can tell she was definitely _acting_ before because now she’s in full on Vulcan mode.”

“I see.” Spock thought of the brash little girl in the memory and the white-hot door in Selik’s mind. He did not know what to make of her. She was, as Selik had said, like a hurricane. 

“Are you headed back to the bridge?” 

“Captain, I called you to ask if my absence would be acceptable for the duration of Alpha shift.”

“Spock, are you asking for a sick day?” The tone in Kirk’s voice told him that this question was rhetorical.

“A sick _shift_ ,” he corrected. “I will be in the science labs during Beta shift. Selik and I will begin studying what lead to the transporter malfunction.”

“Okay, sounds good, Commander. Take off whatever time you need. But I have to ask…are you alright?”

“Yes, Captain. However, I require meditation to function at optimum efficiency.”

“Alright, Spock. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Your concern is not needed, Captain.”

“Alright, alright. Feel better, Commander. Kirk out.”

Spock pocketed the communicator and sighed. 

He felt heavy with emotion, which was illogical, as emotions had no mass. He had much to sort through and much to consider. 

When Spock reached his quarters, his eyes were drawn to the Captain’s door next to his own. His mind recreated the image of Captain Kirk from Selik’s mind.

This memory would take careful meditation to appropriately store away so that it would not interfere with his functionality. 

The most difficult image for Spock to confront was that of the golden bond he had seen in Kirk’s mind through Selik. Admittedly, Spock only had limited experience with bonds, those he had seen or felt with his own family. But in his experience, most bonds were somewhat similar, even the bond between his Human mother and Vulcan father shared certain similarities to Vulcan-Vulcan bonds.

And yet he knew that he had never seen a bond quite like that which he had seen between his other self and James T. Kirk.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, hopefully people don't hate Amanda too much, because here's some Amanda/Jim time. Hopefully she redeems herself a bit this chapter. :)

Amanda was lying on her bed, staring at the smooth metal of the ceiling. She could not feel Selik at all. He had been totally gone from her head for almost two hours now.

She tried meditating, but the empty bond centers in her mind were raw. It hurt so badly to try, and now that Selik was gone, everything felt wrong.

When Selik entered the room, she was jolted from her attempt at meditation.

“Amanda,” he said, his voice reserved.

“Selik, are you okay?” She sat up and looked over at him. He was still blocking her.

He nodded. 

Her words tumbled over each other as she spoke. “I didn’t realize it was bothering you so much. I would never have done it. I’m sorry,” she looked down, ashamed. “I just get caught up in myself sometimes, you know?”

“I felt that I was the only one taking our situation seriously, Amanda,” he said. He sat on the bed across from her. 

“I know. I know it’s serious, Selik. I swear. I’ll help you figure this out. I just thought…I just thought I could have a bit of fun in the mean time.” She shrugged. It all felt so stupid now. She wanted Selik back. 

“I cannot say that I understand, but I do know my sister.” Selik’s small smile made her relax. 

“I can help with the transporter,” she offered. “I know I haven’t been studying as much as you about it, but I learn quickly.” She was plenty smart, Vulcan smart. She could catch up, and she could make it up to her brother.

“Your help would be appreciated,” Selik said. He was watching her intently, but without the link, she found she could not read him.

“What happened, Selik? You haven’t yelled like that in over two years.” She wanted to touch him, to show him how much she cared, but he made no move to lower the walls between them so neither would she. 

“I lost control. I need meditation, Amanda. And I had not been able to achieve it,” he admitted, looking down.

“ _Had_ not? So you were able to meditate?” She was glad for him.

“Commander Spock helped me,” Selik said, stiffly. 

Her stomach plummeted at his words.

“You let Spock _meld_ with you?” Her voice betrayed her disbelief.

“Yes,” Selik’s voice was hesitant.

“But he’s a stranger! He’s not Father.”

“He is hardly a stranger! And he is not Father, but he will be,” Selik insisted.

“After all the crap you gave me about melding with Noah?” 

“Commander Spock will be our Father. Noah McCoy is just some boy you think is physically appealing.” Any warmth that had been in Selik’s voice was gone. 

“You hardly even know Noah!”

Selik hardly talked to anyone but their family or scientists in the lab. He had played with some of the other Enterprise kids—including Noah—when they were younger, but as Selik grew older, he had retreated into his studies. 

“Do you actually believe that Noah and Commander Spock are even comparable? The Commander is _related_ regardless of what age he is.”

“Fine,” she shrugged, hiding her hurt. “So are you and Commander Spock going to be best buddies now, just like at home?” 

Amanda hated herself for it, but she was jealous. Here she was with her parents who didn’t even _know_ her yet, and Spock still picked Selik over her. And worse, now Selik was blocking her, and Selik was melding with this Spock. 

She was alone, utterly alone. 

“Amanda, I _needed_ his help. Losing our bonds was scrambling my mind. I could hardly think! I could not control my thoughts!”

“Do you think I don’t feel it too?” Her voice cracked. She wanted to cry. She felt the tears threatening to spill but stopped them. She was Vulcan enough to control that. 

“Of course you do. And our pain was rebounding off of each other and amplifying. I had to block you. And I _had_ to meditate without you. I needed Spock’s help, Amanda. I needed it.” 

“So it’s _Spock_ now. No Commander?” She hurt so badly then. The pain felt physical. Her lungs and heart felt heavy. 

“Amanda, he would help you too if you would let him, just like Father would.”

“I don’t _want_ a Vulcan mind, Selik. I don’t want Father to jump into my thoughts and change them. They’re _mine._ I just want him to—I don’t know. I just want my mind to be my own.” 

“Melding with Father would not forfeit your independence,” Selik insisted. 

“I just don’t want anyone in my head but me.” She wanted Selik to stop blocking her. She wanted his presence known to her. But she did not like it when she melded with him or Father. She did not like the feeling of someone else walking through her mind. Noah was okay, because she was in control of the meld. With her family though, it was an entirely different experience.

“You _have_ to meditate, Amanda. Your mind is in pain right now. And your emotions are totally unchecked.” Selik almost sounded like he was begging.

“I’ll deal with it by myself, like I do everything. I don’t need you or Spock,” she moved past him, avoiding his touch. 

“We are meeting in the science labs to discuss how to fix this at the beginning of Beta shift. Will you join us?” Selik’s voice was gentle again. 

She opened the door and spoke just before shutting it behind her, “I’m sure you and Spock are better off without me anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kirk’s mind drifted back to Selik’s outburst throughout the morning shift. He wanted to ask Spock about it, but he felt like there was some weird Vulcan telepathy stuff going on that was not necessarily his business. 

He thought about Amanda too. He had not seen her since the meeting that morning, when her Vulcan act became quite real. 

In between Alpha and Beta shift, he had wandered by the temporary quarters they had given the teenagers. But no one answered the door. 

Kirk made his normal rounds through different departments, asking after experiments and general status. He also asked if anyone had seen Amanda around. 

He found Selik and Spock elbows deep in data (“There is no physical manifestation of data into which we can immerse our arms, Captain.”). They seemed almost chummy now, for Vulcans anyway. 

He finally found the girl, alone in one of the private training alcoves off of the recreation room. She had on a red body suit and was circling a punching bag. 

Kirk knocked on the door, which was glass. 

Amanda’s head jerked up. She looked surprised to see him, but showed neither pleasure nor displeasure at his presence.

She opened the door and let him in. “Hello Captain. Do you need anything?” She was not winded in the slightest, but her skin shone with a thin layer of sweat. 

“Want some company?” He asked, smiling. He only had paperwork that was pressing right now, and he thought Amanda might like the company after the spat with her brother.

“I’m sure you have more important things to do,” she said, shrugging.

He smiled. “Bones says I need to exercise more all of the time. I’ll just go throw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

He changed quickly in one of the locker rooms and made his way back to her training alcove. 

She was pounding away at the punching bag, her hair falling in strips around her head as she spun with roundhouse kicks. 

He didn’t say anything to her as he walked in. He went up to the bag and held it still for her, and she unleashed another series of blows more suited to stationary targets. 

When she was finished with that flurry of attack, she breathed deeply and wandered over to a bottle of water she had in the corner. 

Kirk crossed his arms and watched her. “Do you wanna talk about what happened today?”

Amanda stiffened slightly as she took a small sip of water. She wiped a bit of sweat from her lip and shrugged at him.

“I was being immature. Selik got mad at me. It’s all fairly standard for us.”

“It didn’t _seem_ standard.” Jim shrugged back. “Selik seems like the type not to have outbursts like that.”

“You’re extrapolating based off of Commander Spock, Captain.” A bitter note passed through her voice. “As much as Selik would like to be, he isn’t the Commander.”

“I doubt Selik wishes to be someone else. That seems illogical.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Okay, so Selik was _really_ mad at me. And he hadn’t been able to meditate, which big scary Vulcans need to function without having said outbursts when their annoying sisters are obnoxious.”

“You talk like you aren’t Vulcan,” Jim pointed out. 

Amanda shrugged. “Are we going to work out or not?”

Jim laughed. “Fine. Okay. Want to spar?”

Amanda smiled. “I have some Vulcan strength, you know.”

“It’s alright. I fight Spock sometimes. I’ve won before.” 

“Really?” Amanda raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, once. I’ve won once, and it was because I accidentally touched Spock’s skin.”

Amanda laughed. “My Dad at home uses that to win too.” There was a twinkle in Amanda’s eye that made Jim uncomfortable.

Jim didn't have a good come back so he ignored the comment.

“How about we make a wager?” Jim offered, as they began to circle each other.

“A wager?” She questioned.

“Every time I land a blow, I get to ask a question, and you answer it.”

Amanda frowned slightly. “What kind of question?”

“Inquirer’s choice.” Jim smiled. 

“Fine. Then I get a question when I land a blow, right?

“I’m an open book.” Jim opened his arms wide.

When Kirk suggested the sparring, he thought he’d have more of a chance of winning than ended up being the case. 

Amanda had the strength of a Vulcan, but her moves were harder to anticipate than Spock’s. She was also more lithe and sharp with her motions. Where Spock was more careful and calculated, Amanda was impulsive. She had all of Kirk’s advantage in fighting with Spock’s strength and agility. 

Still, by the end of the fight, when Kirk held up his hands in defeat, he had earned three questions, while Amanda had seven. 

They sat across from each other on the mats in the gym. Kirk laid on his back, panting, staring at the ceiling. 

“Want some water?” Amanda offered her water bottle.

Jim took it and squirted it into his mouth and over his hair. 

“How’d I do?” He asked, smiling at her and handing the water back.

“You are slightly less skilled than my Dad,” Amanda smiled. “But he’s had more practice time with me. Was that your first question?”

“No way, kid.” Jim laughed.

“Alright. Who goes first?” She asked. 

Her black Vulcan locks were hanging in strips down her forehead now. Her ponytail was hanging limp at her shoulder. Seeing a Vulcan look so tired was odd.

“You. Let the old man catch his breath.”

“Are you dating anyone right now?” she asked, her voice too casual.

Kirk’s heart skipped. “Uh, nah. Not really my thing. I’m way too busy.”

“Your thing?”

“We get follow up questions?” Kirk grinned over at her.

“If the answer is dull, sure.”

“I’m busy being the youngest starship captain right now,” he shrugged at her. “I’ve got a reputation for being a flirt. I don’t know if you know that. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you. I use whatever I have at my disposal to get my job done though. And sometimes that involves these baby blues.”

Amanda didn’t seem perturbed by his answer, so he figured he hadn’t just completely blown her picture of her father.

He wanted to start out with a simple question; he'd save the hard questions for later.

“Are _you_ dating anyone right now?”

She looked down into her lap and gave a painful laugh

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” 

“You guess?” He furrowed his brow. He hadn’t meant to ask a difficult question.

“There’s a guy…Noah’s his name. We’ve been dating for over a month now.” 

Jim raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t kept a relationship for more than a week at her age.

“Do I approve?” Jim asked.

Amanda blushed, a soft green seeping into her cheeks. “You didn’t know until recently.” 

“I’m going to tell you now. Dad-me is probably really freaked out by the idea of his daughter dating anyone because I was holy terror as a teenager.” 

Amanda laughed, the tenseness in her voice easing. “He’s good. Noah is.” 

“Are you gonna expand without me wasting a question?” Jim smiled again.

She shrugged, looking slightly sad. “It’s hard, dating.”

Jim wanted to tell her that she was too young to be taking dating so seriously. He wanted to tell her that dating got better when you weren’t a kid anymore. But he knew that wouldn’t have helped him feel better ten years ago.

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed simply.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like being a touch telepath and trying to date?” Amanda asked him, her voice sad. 

“No, not at all.” 

“Every guy I talk to, every one I flirt with, if I touch them…I can feel how they feel about me. I feel the lust or the aversion or the curiosity.” She was grim at this. “So many of my friends who I thought just wanted to be friends…” Her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat and met Kirk’s gaze.

“But Noah,” she continued after a moment. “He’s the only person I ever liked who, when I’d accidentally touch him, he was genuinely interested in me as a person. Not me as a Vulcan-hybrid or me as an exotic alien. Just…Amanda.”

Jim imagined being a pretty girl who could sense her friends’ feelings about her. He thought that he would enjoy the power of knowing, but it also might not be the best thing to know what teenage boys were feeling.

“Preliminarily, I would say I like this Noah kid, if that means anything to you,” Kirk told her. “But I also wanna tell you to wait until the Humans get through puberty. They’ll get better.”

Amanda laughed. “Yeah, that’s essentially what Selik tells me.” 

“Alright. Next question for me?” 

Amanda pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. “Do you like Commander Spock? And I mean _like_ , like.”

Kirk’s breath caught a bit, and he looked away from her and up to the ceiling. He had guessed she might ask. 

“I think he’s…attractive,” Kirk frowned. “Do you even want to hear this about your Father?” He looked over at her.

She was smiling lightly. “Keep talking. I’ve heard much worse.”

“Fine,” Kirk rolled his eyes. “He’s attractive, sure. He’s loyal as hell and a great friend. If I’m on a mission, he’s my first choice to have my back. ” Kirk let his arms splay away from his sides. “But when I’m thinking romantic, I just can’t _see_ it. Spock’s just so…Spock. He’s always perfectly prim and his expressions range from impassive to impassive with a raised eyebrow. I’m an affectionate person. I’m tactile.”

Jim took a deep breath. “I don’t see how Spock could put up with me, or how I could be reserved enough for him.” 

Amanda’s eyes were narrowed slightly. “Have you ever actually paid attention to him around you?” 

Jim furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“All of those things you said totally apply to Spock with everyone else in the world. But not you, never you. Even here.” Amanda’s voice was vehement.

“I mean, he puts up with some of my crap because we’re friends,” Jim shrugged. “That doesn’t mean he’d exactly fulfill the affection quota.”

“I’ve walked in on my fathers having sex, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Jesus Christ! That is _not_ what I was getting at,” he objected. Well, that was _sort of_ true. Part of his mind block with Spock and romance was the idea that Spock could never, well, get it on. “And how the hell does that work out? Wouldn’t Spock sense your presence or something?”

“I think he was otherwise occupied,” Amanda’s expression was slightly nauseous. “And it’s hardly my fault they decided to get down _right before_ I was meeting my Dad for lunch.”

“Well,” Jim ran his hand through his hair. It was damp with sweat and water. “I’m sorry for that. Even though it wasn’t me.”

“Dad made it up to me for the next month. Father wouldn’t look me in the eye for what felt like a year.” Amanda’s voice was odd again. 

“Okay, okay,” Jim sat up now, crossing his legs and facing her. “My turn now.” He braced himself because he sensed this wasn’t going to be an appreciated question.

“Do you meditate, Amanda?” 

She frowned, suspicious. “Sometimes, why?”

“You said big scary Vulcans need meditation to function.”

“I’m not pure Vulcan.” She shrugged. “Did you talk to Selik?”

“Nah.” Jim tapped his fingers against the ground. “I just wanna know more about you. You’re part Vulcan, like Selik. He certainly needed meditation this morning. Don’t you need to meditate too?”

Amanda sighed and flopped backwards against the ground. “I’m terrible at it,” she said, her voice was strained. “I try to do it. I sit, I focus, I try to clear my thoughts. But then it’s like all of my stress and worry and emotions just collapse in on me.”

“I don’t know much about meditation,” Jim admitted. He watched her breathing, slow and even. “But I think you’re supposed to confront and dismiss those sorts of things, right?”

“Yeah, and I’m shit at it.” She gesticulated at the air. “Selik’s so calm and collected and cool with himself. I can’t handle being in my own head for that long.” 

Jim sighed because he understood. He understood the need to be moving all of the time. He understood how hard it sometimes was to confront yourself. 

“I guess that’s fair,” Jim said. 

“I don’t think sometimes, when I’m just being impulsive. Which is why I end up doing stupid stuff that makes Selik angry.” She sighed. “He might have the more human biology, but he makes a hell of a better Vulcan than I do. He usually wouldn’t let something this small push him over the edge.”

Jim tried to give her a sympathetic look. It must be hard to balance two natures that could be at such odds to each other. “That makes sense. I'm sorry it's hard for you.”

Amanda was quiet for a while. She started tapping her white sneakers against the mat. 

“Okay, my turn,” she said, sitting back up. She gave him a smile, but it was obviously forced. “Do you want kids?”

Jim whistled and ran his hand over his face. “Well this is hardly fair.”

“I’m not necessarily your daughter. I could be from an alternate reality. So the question isn’t entirely unfair.” She was grinning honestly now, and it wasn’t even weird on the Vulcan face. He found it sort of adorable.

“I didn’t ever think I’d have the chance to have kids, honestly. When I imagined having kids, I thought it’d be some girl I accidentally got pregnant.” Kirk thought this probably wasn’t the best thing to tell a kid that might be yours, but he didn’t want to ruin the honesty thing they had going. 

“So the idea that you planned kids with your First Officer?” Amanda laughed.

“Yeah,” Jim said, rubbing the back of his neck. “A bit weird.”

“Well, whether by accident or plan, do you want to be a father?”

Jim shrugged, avoiding her gaze. He stared at his own sneakers: Starfleet issue white, just like Amanda’s.

“I had a pretty terrible childhood. So I guess I never really thought I could amount up to any sort of dad. It’s not like I had a lot of great role models.” Jim eyed her. “Not sure how you didn’t end up a complete screw up.”

“Hey, I’m pretty screwed up,” she admitted with a wry grin. “But I don’t think it’s my Dad’s fault. He’s really great.”

Amanda’s face fell a bit then, and Jim felt bad. But he knew what his last question was going to be now.

“Amanda, how are your bond centers?” 

She winced, and her face fell more. “I’m dealing.”

“How?” Jim asked, his voice gentle. He watched her closely. Her shoulders had slumped.

“I just am,” she snapped. 

Jim didn’t want to make her feel attacked. 

“Amanda, I’m just asking how you’re doing. This is rough; I know enough to know that this is hard. There’s no shame in that.” 

She looked away from him. Her hands were gripped around each other tightly. “I keep busy. I’m keeping busy. That’s why I’m in the gym.”

Jim softened his expression. “Amanda, running away from your problems doesn’t work for Humans or Vulcans.”

“I’m not running away,” she countered. Her eyes were glassy. “It’ll get better with time. Everything does.”

“If you want to talk though, I want you to know I’m a great listener.” Jim scooted closer to her on the mat. He didn’t touch her, because of the touch telepathy, but he thought she might appreciate the closeness all the same. 

“I don’t know,” she said. She curled her legs into her chest again. 

“You miss them a lot,” he prompted. 

Amanda nodded, her lips tight. She was quiet for a minute and then spoke on the brink of tears. 

“I fought with him, my _sa’mekh_. Right before we transported here. I yelled at him.” Her voice was raspy and wobbly.

She started to shake, and Jim fought the instinct to comfort. Jim had never heard the term _sa’mekh_. It sounded affectionate…familial. 

“And now we might never make it back, and the last time I ever spoke to either of them will have been in a fight! I’m so stupid!” She yelled, her voice cracking on her words. She had her fingers threaded through her hair, and she was holding her head in tight grip. 

“Amanda,” Jim carefully grabbed her wrists where fabric still separated their skin. He pulled her arms away from her head and let them fall to her side. “It’s okay. I promise your dads aren’t mad. They probably just want you back.”

She looked up at him. Her soft brown eyes were wide and full of tears. “My Father doesn’t even like me. I’m too loud and too Human.”

“But Amanda, he married a Human, right?” Jim didn’t dwell on the fact that _he_ was the Human in this scenario.

“You’re special,” Amanda bit out; tears were falling down her face now. “He resents that Selik isn’t the more Vulcan one. He wishes I were the one who looked Human, who had the more Human biology.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Jim hoped it wasn’t true, but he honestly couldn’t say that he knew Spock well enough to judge. 

“Even here!” Amanda gestured toward the door, presumably meaning this time period. “Even here, Spock and Selik are _mind melding_ and being best friends. And I’m all alone! Selik won’t let me in his thoughts, and he’s letting _this_ Spock in and I don’t have anyone!” Her words tumbled over each other in a rush of emotion.

Jim screwed the worry about touch telepathy and put an arm around her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He rubbed her back gently. 

“It’s not. We’re going to be stuck here because I was stupid enough to stand on the transporter pad. And now I don’t have any family left.”

Her eyes were shot with lines of green, and her face was wet with tears now. 

Jim felt out of his depth. He didn’t know enough about Vulcans to say what Selik was going to do or what her Father felt. He didn’t know enough about any of Amanda’s relationships.

“Even here, even where Spock barely knows Selik or I, he picks Selik.” Amanda let her head fall to her knees. Her voice was heavy with sorrow.

Jim frowned. He continued rubbing her back. “Selik needed his help, Amanda. Like you said, Selik needed to meditate.”

“I know,” she whispered, wiping her tears a bit. “But it’s like this at home too. Father hardly talks to me except to tell me how I need to meditate more, or how I should spend less time hanging with friends. He wants me to be just like Selik.”

“Hey, you can’t think like that. Parents just want the best for their kids,” Jim said, although he didn’t even believe that himself. He had seen bad parenting, but he had to believe that he and Spock were better than that. “I’m sure your Father just doesn’t know what else to say to you.”

“If he cared, he’d figure something out, right?” Amanda sniffed and watched him through her tears.

Jim sighed. “I don’t know. Sometimes adults are out of their depth too, trust me,” he said.

Amanda wiped her face and wiggled away from him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. You just look so much like him,” she apologized.

“I’m not overwhelmed,” Jim said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “If Spock’s being there for Selik, then I’ll be there for you.”

“You really don’t have to. I’m doing alright.” She smiled weakly. 

“I’m sure. But sometimes it helps to talk.” He met her smile. “So do you want to keep asking me questions? You still have four.”

Her eyes lost some of their sorrow. “Can we go get dinner? I’ll save the other three.”

Kirk nodded with an encouraging grin. “Definitely.”

“Can we sit alone though? I don’t want to talk to anyone else right now.”

“Absolutely.” He stood and held out a hand to help her up. “Oh!” He withdrew the hand. “Sorry. Touch telepathy.” 

She smiled and got up on her own. “It’s alright.”

He stood there facing her, watching her for a moment. Her crying had cleared quickly, and he could see little evidence of it in her face. Her skin had lost the green tinge of puffiness. But he thought he could see weariness in her eyes now. 

He was still considering her when she suddenly burst forward and hugged him. 

He didn’t have time to react, and so the hug started out as more of a vice grip, where Kirk couldn’t move his arms. 

“Thank you,” she said. “For caring.”

Jim shifted himself and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Hey, no problem.” He laughed into her hair. “You remind me of myself.” 

Suddenly, Jim felt warmth perfuse his veins. He gasped under the feeling before he realized it was Amanda’s emotions, projecting into him. He was feeling an overwhelming sense of warm relief.

“That’s what my Dad says at home,” she said into his shoulder. “He said I’m him but Vulcan-amplified, and therefore I’ve been a terror my whole life.”

“Sounds like fun,” Kirk commented. Jim imagined the emotional outbursts he had seen from his Spock, and he could imagine what Vulcan-amplified meant. The thought intimidated him, but it was also intriguing. 

How could a girl with Vulcan biology be so Human? It was, as Spock would say, _fascinating_.

“I certainly hope so,” she agreed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Spock haven't talked nearly enough. But they definitely need to.

Jim sighed deeply as warm rivulets of water ran down his back. He was already slightly sore from the sparring, but he could feel his muscles relaxing with the shower. The last two days had instilled a sense of anxiety in his bones that he could not quite shake. 

He dealt with inexplicable and often alarming circumstances all the time. He was a Starfleet Captain: that went with the job. So he was handling the arrival of Amanda and Selik well enough. Externally, anyway. 

On the inside, the whole ordeal left him feeling odd, like he was being shoved into a life that was not his. Some part of him felt like it was _right_ to be paternal to these kids. But it felt like putting on a uniform that didn’t quite fit.

And _Spock_. Why would he marry Spock?

His curiosity was starting to distract him from his work. Sure, tall, dark, and mysterious was great for admiration, but not so much for long-term companionship.  
Was there something about his First Officer that he just didn’t get yet? 

Amanda was already turning a lot of the stereotypes he held about Vulcans on their heads. She assured him that she was more Vulcan than Human, and yet everything about her mannerisms screamed Human. 

So maybe Amanda had just never learned the skill of mastering one’s own thoughts. Which implied that Vulcans did feel just as much as Humans, but most chose not to show those emotions. 

He would have to do more reading. Surely he could find something more about Vulcan emotions. He had scanned through The Teachings of Surak once about a year ago—so that he could better argue with his First Officer, of course—but he had found the readings vague and a bit overly preachy. 

Jim smiled at the memory. It had totally been worth reading just for the look on Spock’s face when he quoted Surak in an argument.

He forced himself to stop reminiscing about his First while in the shower as he finished washing.

When he got back to his room, he had messages waiting at his PADD. He held the tablet in one hand and was supporting his towel around his waist with the other. 

One message was from the admiralty. He grimaced and flicked to the next message. He needed to inform Starfleet about their extra visitors. He got into enough trouble with them as it was. 

The next message was from Spock. There was not any text in the body of the message, but there were three fairly large documents attached. The title of the first one was “Spatial and Temporal links in the determinism of the Superposition Converter in Material Transporters.” 

He reached for his communicator beside his bed and keyed in Spock’s frequency.

“This is Commander Spock,” his First Officer’s voice crackled through. 

“Hey, Spock. It’s Jim.” He laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. “Thanks for the light reading you sent,” he said, sarcastically.

“You are most welcome, Captain.” Spock’s voice, as usual, had no trace of having understood the joke. “I believe you will find the academic papers most elucidating on possibilities of Selik and Amanda Kirk’s current predicament.”

Jim controlled a wince at the last name. “Okay, I was actually wondering if maybe we could meet up, and you could talk to me about it? I’d like to hear all you and Selik have done. And we need to talk about what to tell the admiralty.”

“That sounds logical, Captain.”

“I’m in my quarters if you want to hop over in, say, five minutes?” 

“I am completing supper with Selik presently. Therefore, I can arrive to your quarters in approximately ten minutes.”

Jim raised his eyebrows at that. “Yeah, alright. See ya then.”

He busied himself getting dressed. He opted into something more casual, throwing on old Starfleet sweatpants that were still a little too loose and hung too low on his hips. The shirt he wore was a new one that he picked up on their last shore leave. It had a cartoon version of the Enterprise on it, and the shop owner had insisted that he take one for free. 

He kicked back at the table in his room and started reading the first paper his First Officer had sent him. 

When Spock knocked at the door, he pulled himself out of trying to understand a particularly dense formula. 

He hopped up and opened the door. 

Spock was standing at attention outside of the door. His eyes flickered to Kirk as the door opened. He took in the Jim’s pajamas with a slight glance and then met Jim’s eyes.

“Captain,” he said, monotone. 

After spending the afternoon with Amanda, when he looked at Spock, he saw Amanda in him. Now that Jim had seen her bright smile, he could almost imagine the same smile on Spock’s face. Could Spock even smile like that? Or were those muscles a more Human trait Amanda had inherited from him?

“Hey Spock.” He pushed the thoughts about Amanda from his head. “Sorry about the attire, but I’m probably gonna turn in once we finish talking.”

Spock’s brow furrowed at the colloquialism, but Jim didn’t further explain it. 

“Come on in. I’ve just been reading that first paper you sent.” He stepped aside to let Spock in. His First entered and followed Jim over to the table. “My transporter physics is a bit spotty, but I follow the computational parts pretty well.”

“Selik’s original program was meant to simply make the computation more efficient and thereby more accurate. I believe that he accidentally recoded part of the spatial restructuring subroutines. As you know, temporal recalculations are required for any rematerialization process, and his calculations therefore had to tap into the temporal loops, although that was not his original intent.”

They sat down and poured over the papers Spock sent. He described all that the science team had determined during Beta shift. Something seemed to have gone wrong in the relative time calculations. As time flowed differently depending on where you were spatially, time recalculations were a requirement of transporters.

Exactly how or what Selik had done was still unknown though. 

Although they were talking about the children in a roundabout sense, they were careful never to talk about the children’s origin. In fact, to Jim, it was starting to feel like such a deliberate omission that he was having a hard time thinking of anything else.

Once Spock had explained enough that Jim felt like he understood what was happening, Jim went on to open up the message from the admiralty he received.

“They said we really need to be transparent about goings on of our ship right now. We’re still ‘heroes’ enough in the Federation that some feel lenient about us, but we need to make more friends at headquarters for when that heroism wears off.”

“While illogical, I have come to understand the importance of interpersonal politics in Starfleet.” Spock’s hands were folded in his lap.

Jim was messing with this PADD, spinning it on the table in front of him. It was no wonder all his stuff ended up scuffed. 

“Yeah, if they were logical Vulcans, maybe they’d just look at our mission outcome statistics and leave us alone.”

“Perhaps,” Spock inclined his head. “But I have found that the diversity of Starfleet allows our missions to achieve a level of success that I do not believe would have been possible for Vulcans alone.”

“Even with Humans?” Jim laughed, slightly surprised at Spock’s admission. 

Spock’s eyes revealed a flicker of amusement at that statement. “Yes, Captain.”

Jim smiled at him, taking the compliment for humanity. “Thank you, Spock.”

“Thanks are not required for a subjective statement.”

“Nah, but I’ve got to be one of the most human Humans that’s ever existed so you’ve pretty much just told me I’m totally awesome.”

Spock’s ears flushed slightly, and Jim’s eyes were drawn to it. Had Spock blushed before, and he never noticed? Had seeing Amanda flush made him more sensitive to the fact that Vulcan blood could bring green to their cheeks?

Jim cleared his throat and looked away. “Uh, yeah, but anyway, we have to be pretty clear about this because if Starfleet thinks we’ve been hiding fraternization…”

Spock was not meeting his eye. Jim watched him for more of a reaction but found nothing.

“If we present the information in a manner that only conveys facts and is devoid of emotion, then it would be logical to accept our situation without suspicion.” 

Jim laughed lightly. “They’ll still ask, Spock.”

“And we will answer.” 

“You make it seem easy.” Jim ran his fingers through his hair. When he looked over, Spock was watching him.

“We can alert the admiralty in the morning at the start of Alpha shift. As you would say, we can ‘get it over with.’” His First Officer’s eyes were light with amusement again. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He nodded and smiled. 

They sat in a semi-uncomfortable silence for a few moments. Jim did not really want to turn in yet. His mind was still dancing around all he had learned today. He wanted to talk to Spock about _something_ but couldn’t find the words.

“Chess?” Jim said, the idea coming to him suddenly.

“Captain?” Spock was watching him closely.

“Do you wanna play chess? I’ve got a set in here, so we don’t have to go to the rec room.”

Spock blinked, flexed his fingers. “I have not played since I was a child.”

Jim stood with a grin. “You’ll probably still wipe the floor with me.” He wandered over to his drawers and started digging through them. 

He brandished his wooden chess set. It was stained with black paint and still smelled like oak wood from Terra.

He laid out the set and automatically turned the black toward Spock. “You’re obviously the darker of the two of us.”

Spock furrowed his brow at that but had no comment. 

They played in silence for a while, but Jim’s head wasn’t really in the game. He felt like they were consciously avoiding the children again, avoiding them in conversation and thereby outlining them. He thought he was probably alone in this, until Spock hesitated over a pawn and then let his hand fall.

“Have you spoken to Amanda since this morning?” Spock asked; his eyes met Kirk’s.

“Uh, yeah, I have actually. We spent most of the afternoon and evening together.”

Spock’s eyebrows rose. “Is she healing sufficiently from her telepathic trauma?”

Kirk shrugged. He leaned back, watching the chessboard but thinking about the girl. 

“I don’t know Spock. She says she’s doing alright, but I don’t think I believe her.” He played with a loose strand on his sweatpants. 

“Why would she lie?” Spock asked. 

“She’s a little too Human, I guess. Although she says she’s more Vulcan, biologically.”

“Selik believes the same. If she is a Vulcan with Human emotional controls, she could be dangerous. Vulcans without the tempering power of Surak can become mentally unbalanced or even feral.”

Jim laughed aloud. “Spock, she’s not feral. She’s just a teenaged girl.”

“All the same, she should make an attempt at meditation.”

“She says she tries, but that she’s no good at it.” Jim shrugged.

Spock’s mouth opened briefly as if to say something, but then he closed it. He resumed staring at the table in front of him.

“So it’s true about Vulcan emotions then?” Jim asked. 

“Clarify.” Spock frowned ever so slightly. 

“You have strong emotions, but you hide them?” Jim found himself examining his First Officer for even the slightest hint of emotion. 

Spock didn’t respond for a while, and Jim didn’t press. He just waited.

“Your statement has some truth and some fallacy.” Spock answered finally. “Vulcans control their emotions and thereby do not feel as many to their fullest extent. Processing emotions becomes an unconscious action, so it is hard to say how much we would feel if we did not develop this instinct. However, if we only consider hormonal release and hormonal processing times, then yes, Vulcan’s experience a statistically significant more amount of emotions than Humans.”

“Okay,” Jim nodded. “So she could just be an emotionally uncontrolled Vulcan?” 

“Perhaps. With what little time I have spent with her, I cannot have a well-informed hypothesis.”

Jim nodded. Part of him wanted to tell Spock to try talking to her about it. But perhaps it was best if they focused on getting her back home, where her bonds could heal. Her parents could deal with her need to meditate. 

Spock went back to the chessboard, moving a knight with careful precision.

Jim took this as a desire to move on to a different topic. Although he found himself feeling disappointed. He wanted to really _talk_ about what all of this meant. He wanted to ask Spock how all of this made his Vulcan hormones react. He wanted to know more about the man in front of him. He wanted more. 

He thought back to Amanda. He thought about her easy smiles and just as easy tears. He imagined her eyes, just like Spock’s, but full of life and warmth. With her new self-made haircut, she looked so much more like Spock. 

Could Spock’s hair get disheveled like hers was today? 

"She's got your hair," Kirk said, laughing briefly, trying to break the silence.

"Indeed, Captain." Spock moved a pawn slowly and did not look up when he said, "It seems the boy has inherited your eyes."

Jim laughed unsteadily. “Yeah, it’s weird huh? Seeing these creatures who are kind of like us but also totally unique?”

Spock looked over at him. Jim expected a statement about how illogical it was to find facts ‘weird,’ but he was surprised again.

“While phrased illogically, I am experiencing a similar reaction.”

Jim grinned wholeheartedly. “You have no idea how much better I feel knowing that.” 

“Humans are often comforted by empathetic sentiment.” Spock’s ears were flushed again.

“You and Selik are getting along well?”

Spock’s brow furrowed. “Indeed Captain. He is remarkably like myself in temperament.” The Vulcan’s brown eyes met Jim’s. “Which is a disorienting observation coming from a more Human physical form.”

“Yeah, Amanda’s the same but reversed. Funny how life works out like that.” Funny didn’t even cover half of it. 

“It is, indeed, ironic.” Spock frowned. “I find myself deriving more from my time with Selik than simple work completion. While I have mentored many scientists, working with Selik has been personally gratifying for me. I have no logical basis for this conclusion.”

“I guess people like working with their kids. Passing on their knowledge and whatnot.” Jim watched Spock’s reaction to this, but his First Officer only looked deep in thought.

“Do you think Selik and Amanda are from _this_ universe?” Jim asked, and then added, feeling uncomfortable, “I mean, probably not, right?” 

“Clarify your logic for this conclusion.” Spock’s eyes met his sharply. 

“I just mean…their parents are married. But I’m so illogical, and you only sort of tolerate me. I mean, I know we’re friends but…I’m so, so Human.” Jim could not stop his blood from rushing into his cheeks. He looked at the chessboard intently, no longer able to look at his First Officer.

Spock was quiet for a while, and Jim didn’t meet his eyes. Then finally, probably for one of the few times in their relationship, Spock broke the silence. 

“Captain—Jim, I consider you my closest friend.” 

Jim looked up at that. His First Officer was entirely serious, as if this weren’t the first time—barring Jim’s eminent death—that Spock offered such a statement without prompting. Spock’s eyebrows were raised slightly.

“Thanks, Spock. You too. I mean, you’re my best friend too.” And so was Bones, but Bones was sort of different. Jim was not sure how, but it was definitely different. “But they said we were _married_.”

Spock’s brow furrowed. “Indeed.”

“I mean, do Vulcans even engage in homosexual relationships? Isn’t that illogical?” Jim was flushing again. But at least they were finally talking about the elephant in the room. 

Spock glanced over the chessboard, at their obviously abandoned game. “Unlike many Humans of generations past, Vulcans have always known that sexual relationships serve functions beyond that of procreation. As such, if mutually agreeable, homosexual relations are considered socially acceptable.”

Jim’s eyes widened slightly. He could hardly believe that he heard the word _sexual_ come out of his First Officer’s mouth. 

“Oh.” It was all Jim could say. 

“Indeed, Captain,” Spock gave a sharp nod. “I was similarly under the impression that you were a solely heterosexual male.”

Jim spluttered, “I mean, I’ve always just been open to anything, you know?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I’m a little more famous for the ladies.” Jim gave a short laugh.

“I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, Captain.”

“No, no, I asked first,” Jim said, smiling. 

“Yes,” Spock said carefully. 

“Well, you said Vulcans in general are okay with homosexuality. But what about for you?” 

Jim almost immediately regretted the question. Surely Spock didn’t really consider this thought, right? He probably entered relationships because they were logical, not because of sexual preference. Jesus, he could hardly believe he was having this conversation with _Spock_.

“I have never been with a male,” his First Officer said. His hands were gripping his thighs, and his voice was tight. “However my experience with either sex is limited.” 

“Ah, sorry Spock. I shouldn’t have asked. I know you’re private about this stuff,” Jim gave him an apologetic smile.

“I was under the impression that friends talked about such things with one another. As we have established that we are friends, apologies are illogical.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed. “But friends also respect when their friends are uncomfortable and know when to back off.”

Spock nodded and relaxed slightly. Jim imagined briefly what it might be like to touch his First. Not in a sexual way, just to hold his hand or run his fingers up one of those ears. He knew Spock kissed like Humans did; he had seen him kiss Uhura. Did Spock also do affectionate caresses?

Jim stopped his thoughts quickly. He was uncertain why his mind kept wandering this path recently. These children had put the thought into his mind, and now his ridiculously horny brain could not put it to rest. 

“Spock—I—” Jim’s throat was rough. 

“Captain, you are pondering whether or not we might enter into a romantic relationship?” Spock’s voice was monotone, but his ears were flushing green.

“I can’t help but wonder. I mean, somewhere we have _kids_. That’s not small, you know? James Tiberius Kirk got married and had children, Spock. That’s huge.” Jim’s words tumbled over each other.

Spock’s eyes actually looked amused at that. “Jim, you are experiencing panic.”

Jim laughed aloud. “Maybe a little.”

“Perhaps you are tired. As we have an appointment with the admiralty early, I believe it might be best for me to retire.” Spock stood gracefully. 

Jim joined him, suddenly hyperaware of his First Officer. Spock never actually said his opinion on the relationship thing. Had he been dismissing it as ridiculous?

“We can complete our game at a later date,” Spock offered. 

“Yeah.” Jim shoved his hands into threadbare pockets, making his pants sag lower.

When he looked up, he was surprised to find Spock watching his hips. Jim flushed with surprise. He removed his hands. 

“Uh, goodnight?” Jim said, his voice rising.

When Spock’s dark eyes met his, Jim’s breath caught. “Yes, Captain. Sleep well.”

Then his First Officer was gone, and Jim was confused as hell.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a row since the time between the last two chapters was so long. Plus, I felt the last chapter was kind of weak. Alrighty. Here's some (failed) Spock & Amanda interaction.
> 
> Next chapter will be later next week. Some more plot happens because naturally, as soon as the Enterprise has a mission, everything goes terribly wrong.

Admiral Barnett was frowning largely at Spock and Kirk as they stood side by side in front of the monitor in the Captain’s ready room. 

“Your children?”

“Indeed, Admiral,” Spock agreed. 

“And you’re sure?”

“Yes, sir,” Kirk said.

Barnett sighed. “Needless to say, there is no precedent for this situation.”

“We are working to send them home, Admiral,” Kirk said.

“The Enterprise is not a ship fitted for families,” Barnett told them, unnecessarily.

“We’re not making a family announcement,” Kirk protested. “This is a situation that we are dealing with.”

“But they’re from your future?”

“Unknown at this time,” Spock stated, calmly.

“Are you two engaged in a romantic relationship?” Admiral Barnett was obviously incredulous at this point.

“Negative,” Spock stated quickly.

The admiral sighed, as if this was the most difficult thing he had ever encountered. “How is this affecting ship morale and functionality?”

Kirk shrugged. “People are gossiping, of course. We’ve only officially told the senior staff. I don’t think anyone is upset though. We have some people working on helping these kids get home, but I don’t believe it is negatively impacting any Starfleet business.”

Spock nodded his agreement with the Captain. 

“What are your plans if you cannot get them home?” 

Spock frowned. He had not even considered that contingency. “We will ask the children. They are nearly adult by human standards.”

“I think we’d want to support them, though, help them out.” Kirk glanced at him, and Spock nodded his assent.

It was only logical to help these children if they needed it. 

“If there is no progress in getting them home soon, we will need to make further plans. Until then, I’ll try to keep your missions as safe as possible. With the Klingons making noise near the neutral zone, I have no promises, Jim, Spock.”

Spock and his Captain nodded.

“We do need to you transport Ambassador Tekla to Starbase 27. It’s a bit close to the Klingon border but shouldn’t be too dangerous. They are debating agricultural tariffs, so there’s only so exciting it can get. Tekla is on Andoria right now. I’m sending mission parameters to both of you right now.”

Spock and Jim finished their conversation with a few short words and Barnett warning them to try and keep this as quiet as possible. When Jim clicked off the transmission, he sighed.

“Well,” Jim turned and smiled at him. “That went better than I thought.”

“The admiralty did not have many alternatives but acceptance.”

Kirk shrugged and smiled. “I’ll still take it as a win.” Kirk clasped Spock’s shoulder, and Spock stiffened. 

Jim’s hand fell away, and Spock watched it. 

Ever since Spock had seen that glowing gold bond in Selik’s memory between himself and Kirk, he found himself scrutinizing his Captain in a way he never had before. 

Kirk was attractive. He had always known this in a factual sense but had never actually taken time to think about it. He had never considered if the Captain was attractive in a way that Spock could appreciate. 

His mind flashed to Jim's hipbones showing above threadbare sweatpants from the previous evening. _Yes_ , he could find Kirk attractive. 

Unfortunately, finding Kirk attractive had shifted the focus of his mind. He was aware of his Captain’s presence in a way he had not been previously. This new focus was _distracting_.

“I am going to work with Selik this afternoon, Captain.”

Jim smiled, a bright smile that made Spock’s heart rate increase by one percent. “I’ll be on the bridge through Alpha. But I might hop down during Beta to see you guys.”

“That would be agreeable.”

The Captain waved an energetic goodbye as he exited to the bridge.

Spock found himself relieved to be away from the Captain for the moment. He needed more time to consider his feelings and his course of action based off of those emotions. 

When he reached the science labs, Selik was typing with fervor at a computer. Spock stood near him and peered over his shoulder.

“Hello Selik.”

“I have made progress,” Selik offered without greeting. “I believe I have almost rewritten my whole program. This should help theoretically recreate my error.”

Spock took the computer unit next to Selik so that he could peruse the screen more easily. However, he found himself distracted by the boy’s obvious fatigue. His blue eyes were bloodshot with green, and his hair was obviously straggled and unwashed. 

“Selik, are you well?” 

The boy glanced over at him. “I have been working on this since we parted last night.”

Spock widened his eyes in alarm. “You should rest to maintain optimum mental performance.”

“I am dedicated to fixing this as soon as possible.”

“I understand, but there is no logic in exhausting yourself.”

Selik nodded, his eyes drooping as he looked to his own lap. “Yes, Spock.”

He wanted to clarify that he was not trying to lecture the boy, but he was at a loss of how to explain his position. 

Selik stood and started walking to the exit. 

“I will study your program,” Spock called to him as he walked away. Selik paused to listen without turning around. “Come back when you are rested.”

“Yes sir.” 

Spock sighed as the boy left, feeling like he had accidentally chided the already stressed child. 

He turned his attention to the program, shifting his mind to the computer, following the loops of logic through the subroutines. The logic of the program calmed his mind.

“Uh, Commander?” A voice intruded on his thoughts three point seven six hours later. 

Spock turned and was surprised to find Amanda standing in the door. 

“Hello Amanda,” he said softly. 

She looked uncomfortable. “I thought Selik was with you.” 

“He had not slept for an alarming length of time. I sent him to sleep. Was he not in your quarters?” 

“I assumed when he didn’t come back last night that he asked for his own quarters away from me. So I didn’t check.” Amanda shrugged at this, but even Spock could read the sadness in her features. 

“He is not angry with you,” Spock offered. He was not certain why he was attempting to comfort her. 

Amanda was silent for a moment. “He is still blocking me.”

“Yes, his mental state is unsteady without familial bonds, and he finds your mind further destabilizing.”

Amanda frowned. “I’ve calmed some. It’s better now.”

Spock nodded, remembering Kirk’s belief that Amanda was lying regarding her mental state.

“Do you need any help?” She asked.

Spock’s eyebrows rose. “How familiar were you with Selik’s program?”

“Not very. But I’m great with computers and my transporter physics is passable.”

Spock offered the open computer console next to him. “I will copy the program to this terminal. You may study our work. Selik has recreated his program.”

Amanda slid into the chair next to him. The silence between them was less comfortable than the silence he shared with Selik. The boy was like him in that he demanded no conversation. Amanda was more like Jim. It always seemed like there was something to be said or something unfinished.

“You enjoy computers?” Spock asked.

“Yes, I take after my fathers in that,” Amanda said. Her face was emotionless but lacked the stiffness of Vulcan solemnity.

“What are your plans for your higher education?”

Amanda took a deep breath. She rested her fingers on the keyboard in front of her. 

“My fathers have not even asked me that yet.” She smiled softly. “Starfleet.” 

Spock’s eyes widened. “What track?”

She laughed and glanced over at him. “Command and Science, I think.”

 _Just as he had done,_ Spock thought.

“I’d like Selik to join me,” she said, with a shrug. “But I think he’s more interested in the VSA. I told him they’d just be dicks—no offense.”

Spock did not conceal his surprise. “Selik wishes to join the Vulcan Science Academy?”

“Yeah, his scores are damn close to perfect at this point. He’s worked really hard for it. I guess it could help Vulcan xenophobia a bit for Selik to be around.”

“The Vulcan Science Academy has only recently been reestablished,” Spock told her. “There are many non-Vulcan teachers helping to rebuild. I had hoped this would alter Vulcan attitudes towards other species in the future.”

“As far as I can tell, they haven’t changed much. While they are forced to deal with outworlders more often, the sharp plummet in Vulcan population has led to a fierce protection of Vulcan purity, to save what little remains of our people.” Amanda blinked. “ _Your_ people, I guess, would be a more appropriate statement.”

“I am also not a pure Vulcan,” he reminded her, somewhat saddened by her revelation, but not terribly surprised.

“Yeah, but you look Vulcan and act Vulcan. Neither Selik nor I can claim both of those things.”

Spock nodded slowly. “I suppose that is true.”

Amanda nodded. “I guess it’s a pointless discussion though if we can’t get us home.”

Spock did not point out that she could join Starfleet in this time period. He realized that was not her desire, and the thought of not returning home would probably distress her.

They silently turned to work. She worked in silence for one point two six hours before she turned to him and began asking questions. He was pleased to find that, while her mind did not work like Selik’s or his own, she was incredibly intelligent and could phrase her thoughts elegantly.

He began enjoying their conversation as much as he had enjoyed conversing with Selik. 

And there were her eyes. They were so much like his mother’s. It seemed odd to him that the girl had received these traits from him. Spock often felt, when he looked in the mirror, that all he saw was Sarek, but Amanda was proof that there must be some of his mother in him. The thought illogically warmed him. 

After she finally understood one of Selik’s subroutines, Spock watched her bite her lip and twirl a piece of Vulcan hair. Such an odd Human habit on a Vulcan.

“Amanda, may I ask a personal—if odd—question?” 

She stiffened, looking more Vulcan instantly. “I do not promise that I’ll answer.”

Spock nodded. “Precisely how biologically Vulcan is your mind?” 

Amanda winced. “I know, I’m a terrible Vulcan, you don’t have to lecture me.”

“I am not lecturing,” Spock said firmly.

“But it’s what you’re thinking. I know because my Father believes the same.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“You don’t know my Father,” she said petulantly.

“Do I not?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. 

Her face fell. “You might not be him.”

“Is that your hypothesis?”

“Sometimes.”

“I only asked a factual question.” Spock tried to redirect her turn in conversation. “I wished to know how Vulcan your mind is. You obviously have telepathic abilities that rival my own.”

“I’m mostly Vulcan,” she said. “I just don’t follow Surak.”

“That can be dangerous.” Spock’s eyes darkened.

“I’ve got it under control. I’m not Sybok or anything.” She rolled her eyes. 

Spock winced at the mention of his half-brother.

“How certain are you of your control?” He asked, trying to sound gentle. His mind conjured an image of the white-hot door he had seen in the mind meld with Selik.

“Certain enough,” she said flatly. 

“I can offer assistance if you—”

“No.” Her voice was sharp. “I don’t want you in my head.”

Spock spread his hands. “I apologize.”

Amanda crossed her arms and glared at the computer in front of her. She said nothing.

“I did not mean to offend you,” he tried again.

“I’m not offended.” Her voice was exasperated. “I’m just tired of Vulcans telling me how to think.”

Spock did not have a response for that. He did not see controlling emotions as controlling thoughts, but maybe to a Human, the line was less defined. Maybe this girl was Human enough for the distinction to blur.

“I will not ask again,” he said solemnly. 

Amanda nodded, but she did not seem pleased. If anything, she seemed to grow more morose. 

Spock tried to work again, but his thoughts drifted to the girl next to him. She was hardly working, just vaguely scrolling back and forth on her computer. 

“Hello Vulcans.” Kirk’s voice intruded on the awkward silence in the room approximately twenty-two point five minutes later. 

“Greetings Captain,” Spock said with a sigh. 

Kirk seemed to sense the tension because his smile faded a bit. 

“Where’s Selik?”

“He is resting,” Spock offered. 

“I didn’t know you were helping out, Amanda.” Kirk smiled down at her. He was grasping the back of her chair. 

“I’m not doing any good. I should just leave all this stuff to Selik. Ask Commander Spock, I’m not nearly as smart.” She sighed and pushed away from the terminal.

Spock frowned. “On the contrary, Amanda. I found our discussion intellectually stimulating.”

“Yeah, sure,” she looked over at Kirk. “Can I be dismissed, Captain?”

“Amanda, you are being willfully difficult,” Spock said before really thinking about his words. 

“Jesus Christ, you _are_ my Father,” she groaned.

“I don’t think Spock would lie to you. If he thought you were stupid, I would place money on him being the first person on this ship to tell you,” Kirk protested. 

Amanda glared but said nothing. 

“You do differ from your brother, but that is not necessarily negative. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations,” Spock said, quoting the old adage. 

The girl’s face crumpled, and for the first time since she arrived, Spock felt a blast of her emotions. Extreme sorrow. A longing ache that made his chest constrict. She missed her parents.

Spock stood now, wanting to help. Her mind was reaching out to his, begging for relief. His hand lifted toward her. Then, just as quickly as the emotions hit him, he could not feel them anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, meeting his eyes. She was beginning to cry. 

Then she walked out of the room. 

“Woah,” Kirk said, glancing back and forth from the door to Spock. 

Spock’s chest ached and his heart was thudding heavily in his side.

“Spock?” Kirk walked forward and put a gentle hand on his arm. 

Spock’s eyes flickered down to his Captain. Jim’s eyes were sad. “What just happened?” 

“She is in pain, and I made it worse.” His voice was raw.

Jim’s thumb was moving slowly over Spock’s arm, and Spock found himself comforted by the motion. 

“I think she’s unstable, Spock. Like you were saying. Not feral, but she’s not letting anyone in to help.”

“I could help if she would let me,” Spock said. 

“By melding?” Jim asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Affirmative. Or meditation.”

“Is that what you told her?” 

“I suggested that I could assist her in ordering her thoughts.” Spock relaxed his stiff posture. Jim removed his hand.

“I think she’s really against the melding, Spock.” Jim shrugged. “She responded really well to me talking to her yesterday.”

“Talking alone cannot cure a disordered Vulcan mind.”

“Maybe something in the middle then? Talk her through meditation. Or hell, maybe just talk without bringing up any Vulcan stuff.”

Spock wanted to protest, but perhaps Jim was right. She did seem particularly sensitive to references of her Vulcan mind. 

“I find myself with differing beliefs in what course of action to take with these children, Jim,” Spock confided, looking at his Captain.

“You called me Jim,” his Captain smiled brilliantly, and Spock sighed in exasperation. “Sorry, sorry, yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Should we treat them as any other passenger and simply try to get them home as soon as possible without any personal entanglement?” Spock was still watching the door through which Amanda had just disappeared.

“Could you do that? I don’t think I could. I’ve never been good at watching people suffer. Especially kids that have my DNA.”

Spock nodded. “I agree.”

“Should I go after her?” Jim asked, looking over to the door.

“I believe she might seek out Selik right now. As he does not remind her of who she is missing, that may be more helpful to her well being at this time.”

Jim’s eyes were sad. “I think you’re right. It’s got to be hard to look at us.”

“Indeed.”

They were silent for a minute, letting the seconds pass. Spock was replaying the afternoon in his mind.

“She _was_ extremely intelligent,” Spock told Jim.

“I have no doubt. She’s your daughter,” Jim said, smiling. His voice contained something else that Spock could not place. 

“I believe that myself and her Father have a talent for saying the incorrect words to her.”

Jim laughed. “I think that’s just teenagers, Spock.”

“I was no such teenager,” Spock protested, furrowing his brow.

Kirk put his finger to his chin and faked a pondering pose. “Well, _I_ certainly was. And I’m not certain I believe you were an easy teenager. I’ve seen you get emotionally compromised, Commander.”

Spock opened his mouth to protest. 

Kirk stepped closer and grasped Spock’s wrist, making the words die on his lips. His eyes met his Captain’s.

“I’m kidding, Spock,” Jim said with a soft smile, his voice low.

Spock’s skin felt like he was touching live wire, except instead of electricity, Jim’s emotions were flowing into him. He sensed hints of amusement, happiness, swirls of other emotions that lie just beyond what his touch telepathy could tell him. 

“Spock?” Selik’s voice came from the door.

Spock swiftly pulled his hand away from Jim and turned to the boy. Selik was watching them with raised eyebrows. 

“Hey, did you run into your sister?” Jim asked swiftly.

“Negative,” Selik said. “Why?”

“She’s just a little upset right now. We thought she might look for you.”

“She often goes to sickbay when she is emotionally compromised. Uncl—Doctor McCoy gives her menial cleaning tasks which clear her mind.”

“Oh,” Jim nodded. 

“Amanda and I have analyzed your code while you rested, Selik. We can get back to work if you wish.” Spock told him. “Unless you would like to speak with Amanda.”

Selik hesitated and then shook his head. “She would locate me if she wished for my assistance.”

Jim shrugged. “You guys keep working. I might swing by sickbay later. I’ll tell you if she needs anything. And Spock, we’ll arrive to Andoria tomorrow morning. So I’ll comm you later to discuss the mission details.”

Spock inclined his head. “Yes, Captain.”

As the Captain left, Spock turned to begin work with Selik. He found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Selik was a calm presence after Jim and Amanda. 

“Spock, may I ask a personal question?”

“You may.”

“Do you prefer Human mates?” Selik’s expression revealed nothing, but the skin on his ears was slightly green.

“As I have spent most of my adult years around Humans, they have been my primary romantic experience.” Spock had only dated two people in his whole life: one woman at the beginning of his tenure at Starfleet and Lieutenant Uhura.

“How do you tolerate their minds?”

“A Human’s mind is not so intolerable,” Spock tilted his head. “Further, the only Human with which I have melded is Lieutenant Uhura. Her mind is quite logical.” 

Selik twitched. “I find knowledge of your courtship of Uhura disquieting.”

“She is aesthetically pleasing, intelligent, and pleasant. I was honored to have been her mate for the time that I was.” Spock had loved Uhura, and still did, in his own way. 

“Then why did you terminate that relationship?”

“She terminated it,” Spock admitted. “While our passions overlap in many areas, our viewpoints on many issues diverged. She said we lacked what Humans might call a ‘spark.’”

“Illogical,” Selik dismissed.

“Perhaps.” Spock tilted his head. “Regardless, Humans as a whole have no fault as mates. Do not fall to the folly of many Vulcans. Humans are not inferior, nor are Humans and Vulcans inherently incompatible.”

“I, of all people, would understand that,” Selik pointed out. 

“And yet, you find them displeasing as potential mates?”

Selik did not respond.

“Are you bonded, Selik?” The question was incredibly personal, and Spock would not have asked if Selik had not introduced a topic of similar gravity first.

“Negative.” Selik shook his head sharply. “As I lack Vulcan hormonal levels, it is unlikely I will _require_ such a bond.” 

Both he and Selik were obviously uncomfortable with the oblique reference to the Vulcan mating cycle. 

“And Amanda?”

Selik frowned. “She is not bonded, although she would probably benefit from such a bond. Her hormones are Vulcan normal. However, I believe it would be difficult to find an acceptable match. In addition, our Dad wished for her to remain unbonded. He never fully understood the arranged marriages of Vulcan culture.”

Spock nodded, considering. “My mother felt similarly. However, she acquiesced to my father’s logic.”

“At this point in time, Amanda would not agree to such a bond.”

“No, she would not,” Spock agreed. 

Selik was frowning, although Spock could not determine why. 

“Do your Father and Amanda fight often?” 

The boy tilted his head. “More often than anyone else in our family.”

“Captain Kirk and I were often at odds before we understood one another in a way that smoothed our interpersonal relations.”

Selik frowned. “My fathers almost never fight aloud. I believe they resolve most of their disagreements through telepathy.”

Spock stiffened slightly. “I see.”

“I would like to get back to work,” Selik told him after a moment. 

Spock nodded. Although he wished he could help her, maybe the best course of action at this point was to get Amanda home. He felt certain that he would never achieve the same ease of conversation with such a person as he had with Selik.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps between perspectives and jumps around in time a lot, but I like a lot of the scenes, so I hope y'all do too!

Bones was watching her surreptitiously as she made beds in the sickbay. She knew that he was worried, but she tried to appear unburdened as she worked silently. 

She had only been milling around for one point two six hours, but she was running out of tasks. The medical wing was fairly empty, save for a few cases of allergies or colds. 

When she was done with the work Bones gave her, she went over to his office and leaned against the entrance. 

“Thanks for the help, ‘Manda,” Bones said, smiling. 

“Not a problem.” She shrugged. “Thanks for trusting me to help out.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes softening in earnestness. He leaned back in his chair.

“Can I have some of your scotch?” She asked with a grin.

Bones frowned. “I hope you’re kidding.”

“Alcohol doesn’t even get me drunk. So it wouldn’t matter anyway. Remember? Vulcan.” She pointed at her ears and smirked.

“Christ, you remind me of Jim.”

“Explain to me why I don’t get along with Vulcans then,” she said morosely. 

“Hobgoblins are an acquired taste.” Bones shrugged.

“Well, _I_ know that.” Amanda rolled her eyes. 

“Parents can also be difficult when you’re a teenager, regardless of species.”

“Especially when you have a perfect twin brother.”

“Define perfect.”

“Vulcan.”

“Hardly,” McCoy guffawed. 

“Ask Spock.” 

“I _know_ Spock is difficult,” Bones said vehemently. “But he is also fair. To demand perfection would be illogical of any being.”

“You aren’t his daughter.”

“Family is always hard, sweetheart.”

Amanda groaned and rested her head against the door. “It just sucks being here.”

“I can only imagine how hard this is.” Bones motioned to the seat in front of him. “Come on little Kirk, go ahead and take your Dad’s therapy seat.”

Amanda smiled tightly and took the seat. Her Dad came to Uncle Bones’ office often in her time too.

“Now,” Bones smiled, just like he did at home. “Talk to Uncle Bones.”

Amanda sighed heavily, looking down. “I mean, my Father and I have our issues at home. But here, it’s all of the issues and none of the _family_.” Amanda balled her hands in her lap. “It sucks.”

“If anyone can get you home, it’ll be Spock and Jim. They’re the best we’ve got.”

“I just miss them so much,” she said, her voice wobbling. 

“I miss my Jo like that sometimes,” Bones told her, his eyes sad.

Amanda smiled up at him. “I’m friends with Jo, in the future.” 

Bones' eyes lit up a bit at the mention of his daughter. “Yeah?”

“She’s great.” Amanda grinned. “She spends some time on the Enterprise once they refit it for families.”

“We get a refit?” 

“Yeah, not for a couple years though.”

“Great, I’ve always wanted to become a general practitioner for a bunch of space brats,” Bones moaned, although his eyes were still light from the mention of his daughter. Amanda was reminded of Noah. He had Doctor McCoy’s eyes.

Bones' communicator beeped, and he pulled it out. “McCoy here.”

“Hey Bones, you got Amanda?” Captain Kirk asked.

“The lovely lady is right in front of me, Jim.”

“You alright, Amanda?” Kirk asked in a static voice.

“I’m great, Captain,” she said with false cheer.

Bones grimaced a bit but didn’t say anything.

“Wanna meet up for dinner? Bones, you come too.”

“Yes sir, Captain,” Bones said with fake formality.

“Sounds good, Captain,” she agreed.

“Excellent. See you guys later. Kirk out.”

Amanda was smiling painfully now.

“Why’d you lie?” Bones asked, clicking off the communicator.

“It’s easier.” 

“You and Spock fought earlier, didn’t you? That’s why you came here.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “We fight at home too.”

“But at home, he’s your Father.” The Doctor’s eyes were sympathetic.

“And here…” her eyes started filling with liquid again. “I love him. How can I change that? He’s my Father! But he looks at me here, and he doesn’t know me at all. There’s nothing there.”

“Oh Amanda.” Bones came and knelt in front of her. 

“At least the Captain seems to like me,” she whispered. 

“I know it’s not a lot, but you’ve got me even if Spock doesn’t come around. And they’ll get you home, sweetheart. They will.” Bones put a firm hand on her knee. “You’ll be okay. You’re strong, like your Dad.”

“I know you’re not my Uncle Bones,” she said sadly, “But thank you all the same.”

“Hey!” Bones pointed at her. “I’m always your Uncle Bones, alright?”

She laughed as a few tears fell. 

“Now let’s go get some dinner with Jim.”

McCoy stood and held out a hand for her to take. She took it and stood, feeling his honest kindness and affection for a brief moment before he tucked her arm under his and escorted her to the mess hall, as if she were the debutant at a ball.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The pick up of the ambassador from Andoria went smoothly as any such mission. Spock helped Jim greet their new guest, and then he went back to his other duties. He worked with Selik during most of his free hours, and during those times he spent on other ship business Selik worked tirelessly. 

Spock was finding the time he spent with Selik to be quite fulfilling. 

Although he could not determine a logical reason why, he decided that Amanda was avoiding him. He had seen her once in the last four days, and that had been only briefly. She seemed to spend the majority of her time with the Captain or Doctor McCoy. She even seemed to enjoy Lieutenant Uhura’s company more than his own, and she spent some of her time in the communications labs.

Spock decided that the best course of action was to leave her alone. He obviously only exacerbated her issues, and she seemed perfectly content to spend her time with others. 

He hardly had time to spend on her anyway. His mind had been turning over the possibilities of time travel via transporter endlessly, and he had read so many papers at this point that his mind rarely drifted from the topic of transporter theory. He knew that Selik was experiencing a similar phenomenon. The boy was tireless in his pursuit, and Spock was certain that if he had not shown his displeasure the first day, that Selik would not have slept at all. 

Three days before they were set to arrive at Starbase 27, Spock’s door chimed with a visitor at 0500. Of course, Spock had already awoken and was meditating at that time. But as he only received visitors at such an hour zero point four percent of the time, he made sure to rise quickly and answer the door. 

Selik was on the other side, his golden hair a mess, toting an armful of haphazardly organized papers. The boy seemed to have a preference for paper over PADD.

“I think I found something,” the boy said without preamble. His bright blue eyes were sparkling with emotion.

Spock stood to the side to let him enter. 

Selik immediately spread his papers out on the desk before him. He flipped through pieces, shoving them into different piles. 

“Here is a print out of my program. I have circled the location of interest.” Selik shoved some papers at him. 

“The temporal algorithm…we have studied this extensively,” Spock told him, waiting for a further explanation. 

Indeed, they had spent the first thirty-seven point eight five hours on this very function. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Selik ran fingers through his already disheveled locks. He was less controlled than Spock had ever seen him. Excitement made him favor Jim. “However, that loop calls the time recalibration function, which I assumed was written in the standard transporter format. At some point in the Enterprise’s history, someone rewrote the recalibration. The problem was not in my program. It was already encoded into the transporter. My program found the error and activated it.”

Selik’s eyes were glowing as he handed Spock another program print out. 

As Spock read over the notes that Selik had made, his body filled with the adrenaline that always came with discovery. Although perhaps not externally, Spock matched the boy’s excitement. The problem that had plagued his mind for days was finally being solved. This was a familiar thrill, the kind of fulfillment that came from successful science. 

“We can try to reverse this,” Spock said. 

Selik nodded. 

“We will need to test it extensively.”

“Of course,” Selik said firmly. 

“Let us begin immediately,” Spock suggested. 

As they made their way to the science labs, Spock felt some tentative relief. They were finally making progress, and progress was always positive. But there was another emotion fighting to make itself known. Spock considered this, trying to decipher the feeling. 

When he identified the emotion, he stumbled slightly in surprise, but Selik was distracted and did not notice. 

Disappointment. He was slightly disappointed. Illogical.

As he looked over at the intelligent young boy next to him, he understood that while he desired to return Selik home that he would regret the boy’s absence from his life. 

Spock took a deep breath and shoved the emotion aside. Now was the time for science. Emotion could come later. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Selik held the data chip gently in his palm. It held the entirety of his and Spock’s research over the last week. The chip was a copy of course; the original chip was being installed in the transporter console. 

Before him sat a sheet of paper. He would bundle the data chip in the paper and send it through the transporter. Hopefully, the package would travel through time.

He sat the chip down, and picked up a pen. He was using ink and paper so that if the technology somehow got corrupted on transport, the message would hopefully still make it to his parents. He was attaching a bundle of relevant research for the same reason. 

_Sa’mekh and Dad,_

His handwriting was shaky. Imagining his parents finding this paper was affecting his emotions in an unexpected manner. 

He put the pen back to the paper and kept writing.

_Amanda and I are well. As you may have determined, I was performing an experiment on the transporter that led to a malfunction. My sister and I have been transported to the past—or an alternate reality. In this time period, James Tiberius Kirk and S’chn T’gai Spock are unbonded. However, I have been working with Father’s counterpart to find a remedy to our situation._

Amanda entered their room then, obviously sweating from some sort of physical exertion. 

“Hey Selik,” she offered smiling briefly. 

Things had been tense, but not unpleasant, between them. 

“I am writing our fathers a letter to test the program that Spock and I have created. Would you like to write something?”

Amanda’s reaction to Selik’s discovery had been skepticism. He understood the feeling. He did not want to be wrong either. Too much hope would be a hindrance at this point.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go change really quick. Be right back.”

Selik turned back to continue writing.

_Attached is a data chip with the necessary additions to the transporter hardware in order to repeat my accident in a controlled manner._

_This message is a test of the program. If you find this message and the attached data chip in fully functioning format, we ask that you respond in kind. Perhaps try to send something more complex in order to test the program’s limits._

He wanted to write something more personal, but as always, the words failed him. He sighed and sat his pen down. 

Amanda entered the room, clothed in a clean command uniform, with a skirt that Dad would have thought was too short for her. 

“Okay, can I see the letter?” 

He handed her the paper and pen, careful not to touch her hands. They were still maintaining mental distance. Selik was certain this was required at this point for the experiments to be completed with desirable speed.

She leaned back on the bed, writing with the paper balanced on a PADD. She only wrote briefly before returning the paper.

“When are you sending it?” She asked

“Our experiment will commence at 2000 hours this evening.”

She nodded, chewing on her lip. “Are you going to beam down to Starbase tomorrow? It’s a pretty big base, might be interesting to check things out.”

Selik hesitated. “I should continue working.”

“I doubt we’ll have heard anything back from our fathers by tomorrow. Is there any use making a whole new theory without following this one through until the end?”

“If it is not successful, then I will be all the more close to a second experiment.”

“Selik, you’ve got to rest. It isn’t healthy to be cooped up in the science labs all day and all night.”

Selik frowned at her. “We are Vulcan, Amanda. As such, we are perfectly capable of maintaining such activity.”

“Sure, physically. But you’ve got mental needs. Plus, we’re part human. Humans need to blow off steam.” She smiled at him.

Selik sighed. He had not spent much time with his sister over the last week, and he felt that he owed her. “Alright. I will accompany you down to the Starbase tomorrow.”

Amanda beamed. “Thanks, Se.” 

She hopped out of the room and called back to him, “I’ll see you this evening for the grand send off.” 

Selik turned back to the letter and read his sister’s additions.

_We love you very much. We miss you more than you know. Selik and I hope that you are both doing well. I can’t wait until we get home. The food here sucks._

_Love,_

_Amanda T’Karik Kirk_

Selik let a bit of amusement seep into a smile. His Dad and sister had a running joke about using the phrase ‘the food here sucks’ as code for, ‘this planet sucks. Let’s get back to the Enterprise.’

He put the pen to paper and signed below his sister’s name in Vulcan.

_S’chn Selik Kirk_

Selik Kirk folded the letter around the chip and sat it gently on the desk. He was ready for the experiment.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Amanda glanced at the people in the transporter room with her. She had a strong sense of familiarity fill her.

The Captain was standing next to Spock, reading a PADD over his shoulder. The first officer stood tall in his science blues and was quietly explaining some of the program to the captain. Selik was silently toying with wires beneath the console. 

This was her family. 

Of course, everything was not exactly right.

Spock should be leaning four centimeters closer to Kirk, perhaps his hand brushing her Dad’s back. Jim’s laughs should be slightly more relaxed, his eyes warmer. When Jim didn’t think the children were looking, he might brush his fingers against the Vulcan’s in a telepathic kiss.

She should be able to run up to her Dad and hug him. 

She should be able to feel their bonds. 

Amanda’s mind felt completely empty for the first time in her life. She briefly wondered if this was what it meant to be fully Human: to always be stuck alone in your mind. 

Amanda had always prided herself on being independent, on letting her thoughts be created and organized by herself, rather than shepherded by others. She was not so certain anymore. Maybe letting people in had its advantages. Even if she had not meditated with her Father, his presence had undoubtedly had an effect on her thoughts. She had simply never realized how important and how deep her familial bonds went. 

Perhaps meditation would not change her mind in an uncontrollable way. Maybe it could be like her bonds: a subtle positive basis on which she could build her thoughts.

“I believe the transporter is ready,” Selik announced, standing and brushing his uniform straight. 

Amanda was holding the papers and data chip. She walked slowly to the transporter and sat the package down slowly, almost reverently, like an offering.

“Activating transporter beam,” Spock intoned. 

With a slight hum, the package vanished. They were all silent for a moment.

“Well.” Jim broke the silence.

“I guess we just wait now,” Amanda murmured.

Jim walked over to her and patted her on the back. “I have a good feeling about this.” He grinned. 

As they left the room, Amanda thought, quite illogically, that she would miss this version of James T. Kirk. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The James T. Kirk that had held the infant Amanda Kirk when she cried endlessly through the late night hours was sitting against the transporter console, staring at an empty transporter pad. 

He came in here sometimes, just to be in the place where his children had been before they vanished. 

Once, he had brought whiskey, and Bones found him and held him while he fell apart. 

Spock never came even near this part of the ship. This room had taken his mother and children.

When Amanda and Selik first disappeared, he and Spock had both felt it instantly. The ripping of telepathic bonds was apparently terrible for Humans as well. Kirk had doubled over, dry heaving, with pain worse than a migraine. He could hardly imagine what Spock felt.

Honestly, he could barely tell what Spock felt at all. Anytime Jim tried to help, the mental anguish had been too much for him to handle. Spock had experienced so much loss in his life. This simply wasn’t fair. 

Jim sighed and let his head lean against the cold metal behind him. 

It had been two weeks. He knew the odds of his children being alive were slim. He knew that Spock could probably put a depressingly small percentage to those odds. 

Transporter accidents happened. Atoms ripped apart, redistributed to the cosmos. A death that was probably the most instant a being could imagine. 

Jim’s lungs burned with the thought. His stomach flopped, and his heart stopped. It was all too much. Emotional compromise. Total emotional compromise. 

He stood, forcing himself to move. His eyes were vacant, focusing on nothing. 

When the transporter pad whirred with energy, he frowned. 

There was a metallic whack as something fell to the ground. 

Jim furrowed his brow and walked over to the object that had appeared on the pad. It was a metallic data disk with a papers tied to it. 

He lifted the package, carefully unwrapping the disk. Security would probably kill him for this, but he found that he barely cared about his own wellbeing. He unwrapped the top piece paper first--there was writing on it--and unfolded it to read what was on it.

When he saw the first line, the handwriting, he fell to his knees. His hand immediately went to his mouth. His eyes filled with emotion. 

_SPOCK!_ He yelled with every bit of telepathic strength he had. He tugged on the bond he shared with Spock, filling it with urgency, excitement. 

He took a deep breath, tried to continue reading the paper. He couldn’t get past the first line. _‘Amanda and I are well.’_

Nothing else mattered. His children were alive. No matter where they were or what they were doing, they were alive. He laughed, the first laugh since they disappeared. 

When Spock entered the transporter room, Jim was struck by how frail and wiry the Vulcan looked. He hardly ate anymore. His meals were sparse, and his contact with others had been strained. For all this had affected Jim, Spock was a thousand times worse. 

“ _Ashayam_ ,” Jim’s voice was unsteady. “They’re alive.” 

Spock’s emotions didn’t change. His expression was as flat as the first time Jim met him. 

The Vulcan made his way calmly to the pad. He knelt next to Jim. Jim handed his bondmate the paper, letting their hands touch. 

As Spock read, his breathing became uneven. Jim moved closer to him, wrapping his arms around Spock’s thin waist, burying his face into Spock’s uniform. 

“Read it out loud, Spock. I couldn’t finish it,” he said into Spock’s hip. Jim laughed again, aware that he probably sounded insane. 

“Sa’mekh and Dad,” Spock began; his voice wobbled.

Jim continued laugh-crying, because he could imagine Selik speaking with the same tone. 

“Amanda and I are well…” Spock carefully read through the letter, much more valiantly than Jim ever would have made it. 

“We love you more than you know,” Spock’s voice cracked on these words. A cool Vulcan hand fell to Jim’s neck. He shuddered. 

As Spock finished the letter, he sat the precious pieces down and turned to wrap Jim as tightly into himself as he could. 

They were tangled together, and the sheer relief that bounced between their bond was enough to make Jim want to pass out. 

“Spock, they’re okay. They’re okay,” Jim kept repeating, his breaths warm against Spock's uniform.

Spock was holding so tight that Jim thought he might bruise. “Yes, Jim.”

When Scotty found them there, Spock did not let go of Jim. They stood, but Spock was grasping his bondmate’s hand as if he might disappear if they were not touching. 

The current acting Captain was obviously alarmed, but under the circumstances, most of the Enterprise crew had been giving Spock and Jim passes for odd behavior for a while now.

“They’re alive, Scotty,” Jim offered, as an explanation. “They think they’ve figured out how to get home.”

Scotty beamed. “I’d wager your boy figured it out. He’s a brilliant lad.” He strolled over to them. “Did wee Kirk send any schematics? Let’s get going!”

“Indeed, Captain Scott,” Spock said. He was almost smiling as he lifted the data chip toward the engineer. 

“Well I hafta get a skilled science officer on the task,” Scotty said with eyebrows raised toward Spock. 

“I am pleased to offer my expertise.” Spock grasped the chip tight in his hand.

“Excellent, Commander! I will call a few others to help.” Scotty turned and started calling more crewmembers.

Jim was surprised when Spock turned into him again and pulled him close. Spock hardly ever showed any affection in public, let alone such a gratuitous display. The Vulcan’s head rested in his hair, and Jim felt the warm press of a kiss. “We will get our children back, Jim.”

Jim squeezed his Vulcan as tight as he could around the middle. “Yeah. We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully emotional!Spock wasn't too out of character.
> 
> Wanna share any happy stories from any of you guys' weeks? My week's been TERRIBLE so far, so any happy stories in the comments would be much appreciated. Or you know, just a comment on the story :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woah, crazy plot from nowhere. Let's get dramatic in here. There's some violence and blood and stuff in this chapter. So reader beware if that sort of thing freaks you out.

“Being a Vulcan in this time period sucks,” Amanda complained. 

Selik raised an eyebrow at her. “I believe those observing you are more interested in your human companion, as well as your human expressiveness.”

Amanda waved her arms around, and a Tellarite huffed nearby in alarm.

“But there aren’t any Vulcans around either,” she said.

“Vulcan was destroyed only two Earth cycles ago, Amanda,” Selik reminded her in a low voice.

She deflated a bit at that. “Yeah, I guess they’re all on New Vulcan right now.”

“Which makes it all the more anomalous for a Vulcan female to be touring a Starbase near the neutral zone.” Selik glanced around him. “Vulcans are very reactionary and cautious in this time period. Your behavior and presence is thereby alarming.”

Amanda sighed. “I should never have cut my hair.”

“I agree,” Selik said simply.

“I’m sorry about that,” She flushed and looked down. “I can’t even begin to say how sorry. I’ve been thinking a lot over the last week. I need to be a better sister. And a better Vulcan.”

“ _Amanda_ , you only need to be content with yourself. You are not Human. You are not Vulcan. You are a hybrid. I understand that it is difficult to balance, but I believe you can. I think that you are so focused on being either Human or Vulcan that you do not realize that, as they do in your DNA, the species can coexist.”

“I just want to be able to laugh, Selik. I want to hug and make mistakes and curse and cry. If I gave that up, I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

“Then do all of those things, but realize that you must also tame your mind. Even Humans must deal with emotional upheaval. Your biology requires that you deal with it differently, but that is no reason to change who you are.”

Amanda paused. A week ago, she might have stopped listening, because a week ago, she had been convinced that she could go without all things telepathic. But then she lost her parents bonds and Selik and all sense of mental stability. 

She turned to her brother and met his eyes. “I think you’re right.”

Selik’s blue eyes widened. “You do?”

“I think I’ve been using my bonds as a stabilizer all this time. I might not be organizing my mind like a Vulcan, but I was still using you and Father. So I was never really being fully Human anyway.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bad sister.”

Selik furrowed his brow. “Have you meditated?”

“I had some success. I’d…I’d need yours or Father’s help to fix the mess I’ve made in my head.” She felt somewhat defeated, but she was beginning to realize that she needed help. It was terrifying.

Her brother didn’t say anything for a while. Then he gave her a rare smile. “I promise your mind would still be your own.” He breathed out. “And you are not an unsatisfactory sibling.”

Amanda laughed lightly. 

“We only have another hour before we need to return to the Enterprise. Shall we continue exploring?” Selik asked, obviously feeling indulgent. 

She slung her arm over his shoulder, drawing a few stares from various creatures. Selik sighed but did not object. 

The siblings were at a technology supply store when the first rumble rattled the Starbase’s floor. Amanda dropped the holovid projector she had been inspecting and immediately began to look about for trouble. 

Selik was at her back instantly. 

When the second explosion occurred—this time much closer—Amanda reached for Selik’s hand instinctively. He grasped hers back. 

Their imbedded telepathic link, blocked for over a week, reinforced itself again. But there was no time to consider this. Amanda pulled out her communicator.

“Enterprise. Two to beam up.”

Static. 

“Fuck,” Amanda swore. 

Selik tugged her out of the store. “We must get away from the interference.”

“We should move toward where Kirk and Spock were meeting. The delegation conference rooms are always doubly protected and have stronger communication capabilities,” she suggested.

Selik nodded. 

Amanda considered that the delegation meeting rooms might be the targets of such an attack, but she weighed the odds and considered this to be the highest likelihood of returning to the Enterprise quickly.

They were on the wrong floor, one level below the meeting and delegation chambers. So they moved toward the lifts. As they got closer, it soon became obvious there were too many fleeing beings trying to get off of the floor. 

“Maintenance ladders?” Amanda suggested.

“I do not know their location.”

They stood in indecision for twenty-two point one seconds.

When the next explosion went off, Amanda swore she felt it before she heard it. She was knocked to her back as a projectile slammed into her chest. Her hand lost its grip from her brother as she fell into the metal floor. 

The lifts had been the next target. 

The screams of dozens of species filled the air. Amanda might have yelled herself, but when she went to inhale, her left lung did not respond appropriately. She looked down. A long piece of metal was imbedded just beneath where her lungs ended and her stomach began. 

As soon as she saw the piece, she felt the pain. Immediately—almost instinctively—she blocked her pain receptors. The path to logic was cleared by the dismissal of pain.

Evaluating her injury, she knew the shrapnel was piercing part of her left lung. The metal extended past her heart, although she was fairly certain that organ was uninjured. However, by the amount of pressure she felt filling her chest, she knew there must be another injury bleeding into her abdominal cavity. She wanted to remove the piece before she began moving. She could not risk her heart being punctured. She felt certain she could control any immediate medical problems with her mind.

Closing her eyes and centering herself, she pulled the shrapnel out as cleanly as possible. Sticky green blood covered her hands. She stared at the offensive piece, almost impassive, before throwing it away from her.  
She ripped her shirtsleeves—thankful she had worn long ones—and tied them end-to-end. Slowly, she pressed her chest wound closed and tied the sleeves tightly around her middle. Blood had seeped downed her entire shirt, but the shirt was black, and with her wound shut, the damage looked minimal.

Amanda looked around her for Selik. 

He was lying amidst the debris. She immediately crawled over to him and grabbed his hand. He was alive and vaguely conscious. 

The blue Starfleet t-shirt he had donned for their trip was quickly turning a sickly dark green. She lifted the shirt and found that he had sustained small puncture wounds from almost bullet-like shards of metal.

“Dammit,” she whispered. 

Selik’s eyes blinked and immediately, he winced. Then he groaned.

Amanda went to his meld points and forced herself into his thoughts. She immediately performed a similar hormonal block as her own, dulling his pain somewhat. Selik’s humanity would not allow for more substantial control without damaging his psyche. 

She pulled herself out of his head, so that the meld was light, but enough that she could still maintain some control and awareness of his autonomic functions.

“Come on, Selik,” she pulled herself to her feet, ignoring the twinge of pain in her gut. 

Her brother remained silent, his face growing paler and his lips going tight, but he obeyed her command with a lot of help from her.

He had to lean heavily on her, and she was suddenly very grateful for Vulcan strength. 

Logic told her to get away from the blast site. Perhaps if she moved far enough away, whatever was blocking communications would be out of range. It was her only option. She guessed that Selik had perhaps another hour before he lost too much blood. She probably had two or three hours if her controls kept up. 

Progress was slow. Selik was falling in and out of consciousness, his presence in her mind like a light flashing on and off. When he stumbled, she stumbled. She felt her chest wound ripping at her every time she twisted even slightly. 

“Amanda,” she heard her name vaguely. She had shut out external stimuli to focus her mental control. 

She thought it was Selik at first, but his head was lolling against her shoulder. 

But then Spock was standing in front of her. His formal uniform was slightly rumpled and covered in a thin layer of debris, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He immediately took Selik’s other side trying to shift the whole burden of her brother to himself.

“No,” she kept her grip. “I need to keep skin contact. I’m regulating his pain and some blood loss.”

Her voice was surprisingly firm and steady in her ears. 

Spock immediately stopped trying to take Selik, settling for distributing some of Selik’s weight on himself.

“Are you injured?” Spock asked her, looking at her over Selik’s lolling head. 

“Yes. Not as bad as him though,” she lied. Her injuries were worse, but then again, her body could take more. “Where’s Captain Kirk?”

“He beamed aboard the Enterprise just before communications were disrupted.”

“Do you know where we can go to get out of this dead zone?”

“The maintenance hatches are two-hundred meters south of here. We can perhaps escape to an alternate floor.”

They began heading that direction, moving much more quickly now that Amanda had help.

“Why are you on this floor? Weren’t your meetings above here?” She asked. Her vision was starting to blur, and she needed the conversation to keep herself conscious.

“Negative. Our negotiation rooms were publicized to be in the usual delegation hall. However, this is a common ploy to decrease the risk of espionage or attack. When the initial blast went off, the Captain and many of the delegates immediately beamed aboard the Enterprise. Jim wished to return to help me locate yourself and Selik, but then the second blast compromised the communication systems.”

Amanda nodded and immediately wished she hadn’t. Her vision swam and before she could right herself, she fell to her knees. 

Selik started to fall with her, but Spock held him up. 

As soon as she lost contact with Selik’s skin, her mind cleared. Her control over her own functions redoubled, and she took a deep quavering breath. 

“Amanda?” Spock asked; his voice betrayed some alarm.

“I’m alright.” She took a deep breath and stood. “I let my control get away form me.”

She took a few moments to collect herself, taking inventory of her injuries. Without Selik weighing her concentration, her functionality increased greatly. 

Amanda looked at her sagging brother, obviously totally unconscious now. 

“I don’t think I can help him very much anymore,” she said. She put her arm under her brother’s and helped Spock support him again. Where her bare skin crossed Spock’s, she felt the spark of telepathy, but nothing more. He was effectively blocking her. 

As they continued moving, Spock murmured, “You are more injured than you implied.”

“I’ve got a couple hours.” She avoided his accusation. 

She felt short pulses of telepathy from Spock while they walked. He was gently checking her physical status, and she allowed it in her current state. She was not entirely confident in her own assessment.

Spock kept pulling out his communicator with the arm he was not using to support Selik, trying for contact with the Enterprise, and failing. Amanda’s limbs felt like she had been walking for hours, but her internal clock told her it had only been a few minutes. The sounds of panicked species had long since died away. They were now in the side corridors that were obviously meant for maintenance personnel.

When the sound of other creatures began echoing down the hallway, both Spock and Amanda stopped immediately. She could hear the rasp of multiple voices, but she could not make out much else. Her head felt heavy and full of cloth.

Spock grasped her shoulder tightly, letting his whole hand contact her skin. Suddenly, his surface thoughts were pouring into her mind. 

His mind was familiar, his thoughts similar to her Father’s. She felt her mind reach to his, grasping for that familiar bond. _Fatherdadfamilyfather_. But she quelled the reaction.

 _Amanda, I do not believe that these are friendly beings._ Spock’s mind-voice was strained, but the telepathic connection was strong…easy. 

_Species?_

_Orion_.

She considered what she knew of Orions from this period. _Pirates? Slavers?_

_Both, most likely. This Starbase is a hub for mineral shipments. Any prisoners gained would most likely be considered a bonus._

Spock sent a mental suggestion to veer off from the main hallway, and she complied. They moved into a side hallway, and she could sense Spock’s general plan for where they were going, but no more. 

_They have found yours and Selik’s blood._ Spock’s mental voice was grim. 

Amanda looked down, seeing the drops of green that followed them. She had not realized. 

They stopped where they were. Spock looked over at her. “You must run,” he said, firmly, quietly. 

“How many are there?” she whispered back. 

“Five males.” Spock’s eyes were distant as he listened. “They know we are Vulcan.” 

Without preamble, Spock lifted his free arm and pressed it to her meld points. Clear images of the Starbase maintenance hallways, along with the base schematics, filled her mind. Spock’s knowledge of the base was hers now. 

“You can’t take all of them alone,” she told him, frowning. His hand fell from her face limply.

Spock hesitated, looking down at Selik. “No. But I can sufficiently distract them.”

“Spock, you can’t.” Amanda shook her head. “Just keep coming with us.”

“Young Vulcans are highly sought after, Amanda.” Spock’s voice had thinly veiled disgust.

As if to highlight this point, a gravelly Orion spoke in a deep, threatening voice from behind them. Amanda knew very little Orion, but she knew enough to catch the drift. ‘Young female Vulcan’ was the subject of that statement.

Amanda jerked her head around and shivered. A whole group of large green-skinned males were coming their direction. She calculated Spock’s chance of defeating them as less than one percent. But he could probably hold them off for a reasonable length of time. 

In her current condition, she did not increase his odds significantly. Logically, she should run.

“You must go,” Spock said, his stance tense. He slowly shifted his portion of Selik’s burden onto her. She winced and took the extra weight.

“Thank you, Spock.” Her eyes began filling with tears. 

Spock reached out and gripped her shoulder. Waves of reassurance poured into her mind at the contact. 

“Go,” he repeated and released her. 

She wasted no more time. She gathered up all her remaining strength and moved as quickly as possible. Selik was purely dead weight now, and without Spock helping, her brother’s mass seemed impossibly heavy.

Amanda knew now, from Spock’s mental map in her head, that the hatch was actually quite close now. But they easily would have been caught had Spock not offered to run distraction. She only hoped that the way to the hatch was clear. 

When she reached the ladder that lead between decks, she let her brother drop, uncertain as to how to get him up or down. She didn’t think she could hold him with one arm while she climbed. 

Selik was so pale. She wiped the sweat soaked hair from his face. His breath was so light that she had to put her ear right next to his mouth to hear it. The fear that jolted through her at the thought of losing him gave her an extra dose of strength. 

She hefted him, deciding that climbing down was all she could manage. 

Her fingers were slick with blood, so she tried to dry them as best she could. Although tired, the climbing was surprisingly manageable. When she got to the bottom, she dropped Selik again, taking a deep breath. She dragged him slowly through the hallway. 

They were near the diplomatic quarters, which were understandably empty. These would be the first people transported out.

After only a minute of dragging, she stopped. She leaned against the wall of the empty hallway. She took a deep, rough breath and then pulled out her communicator and clicked it on. 

“Enterprise?” She rasped; her voice was almost unrecognizable to her. 

She began crying again when Chekov’s voice came through. “Enterprise is here!” He sounded harried and stressed.

Amanda laughed into the communicator; her eyes were wet with tears.

She bit her lip as she looked down at her brother. She thought to Spock upstairs. 

Amanda realized two things about herself in quick succession. One, she could be a surprisingly good Vulcan when she needed to be. Two, she would do absolutely anything for her family. Her course of action at this point was simple…logical.

“Hey Chekov,” Amanda rasped. “I’ve got you one to beam up.”

She muted the communicator before Chekov could respond. She clasped the communicator to her brother’s t-shirt and quickly hefted herself to standing position. 

She moved away quickly, far enough away that the signal from the Enterprise that was triangulating on her communicator would only find one life form. If she was correct about the type of interference in these hallways, the only way to beam out was with a direct signal, and there was no safe way to beam in. She was stuck here now. Her decision was final.

From the ladder, Amanda watched her brother disappear, allowing herself a few seconds of relief and rest as he went to safety. 

Her wound was so raw that she was totally numb to it at all. And without Selik, she felt like she could do anything now. She would go back and save Spock. She had no other choice. He was her family, even if this was a Spock from the past or from an alternate reality. She found the semantics did not really matter to her. She needed to save him. 

With a deep breath, she began climbing the ladder again, back toward the intruders and back toward her Father.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some Amanda & Spock fluffies, although perhaps they could have happened under better circumstances...

Jim was pacing the hallway outside of the sickbay. Bones saw him and gave the dermal regenerator he was wielding to a nurse nearby.

“Did you talk to Starfleet?” Bones stepped in the way of Jim’s pacing path.

“Yeah, Uhura’s trying to get the pirate ship to respond to hails.” Kirk looked grimly at his friend. “Still no word from Spock or Amanda and Selik.”

“Jim, we haven’t had any serious injuries so far. There’s no reason to think that Spock and the kids are injured. They’re probably just stuck.” 

“If I had beamed back _two_ seconds before those damn pirates knocked out communication capability…” Kirk pulled at his hair. 

“Keptin!” Chekov’s voice chimed over Jim’s communicator. “We have had communication from Amanda! Beaming up now.”

Jim met Bones eyes before they both started running. 

When they reached the transporter room, Bones started elbowing past people from security who were waiting to be beamed down. 

“Damn it,” Bones swore. 

Jim saw Selik a moment after Bones. 

The young boy was on the transporter pad, along with smears of dark green blood. He was flat on his back, just like the first time beamed aboard the ship. His arms were speckled with green, and his skin was stark white. There was one emergency medic waving a tricorder over him.

“Move,” Bones told the paramedic. “Normal tricorders are useless. I’ve programmed this one for all of his baselines.”

Jim and Dr. McCoy knelt on opposite sides of the boy. 

“He’s got a talent for beaming aboard this ship unconscious,” Bones murmured as he looked at the readings.

“Bones?” Jim asked, staring at the boy’s palor. He did not touch him for fear of exacerbating any existing injuries.

“He’s alive. But this doesn’t look good. I need to get him in surgery now. And I’ll probably need Vulcan blood…where are Spock and Amanda?” Bones motioned to the medical staff to get a stretcher. 

“Amanda and ze Commander were not in range when I scanned,” Chekov said, sounding bewildered. “I spoke to her.”

“How was she not in range?” Jim demanded.

Chekov shrugged. “Perhaps intentional, Keptin.”

“Something is wrong,” Jim murmured.

“Jim, I’ve got to focus on Selik.” Bones grabbed his friend by the shoulders and met his eyes. “If I have to use replicated blood, it won’t be ideal, but it’ll do. Tell me if anything happens. And don’t do anything stupid.”

“Never.” Jim smiled weakly.

“I can never tell with you and the hobgoblin.” Bones gave him a supportive squeeze on the arm and a strained smirk. Then he followed the team of men carrying Selik away, and Jim was left again to wait.

He turned to Chekov, who was staring down at his instruments in frustration. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

“Amanda spoke to me, sir.” Chekov looked younger than normal, the youthful features highlighted when he was stressed. “She was not in range when I beamed Selik aboard. She must have relocated.”

“Why?” Jim asked rhetorically, his gut flipping. Spock and Amanda. Gone.

“I do not know, sir.”

“And there’s still no access to the floors with the pirates?” 

“Negative.”

“Where did Selik beam from?”

“Diplomatic Quarters. One floor below ze pirates’ target. With ze communicator, we could locate and beam Selik aboard. However, that location is not accessible without a direct connection for security measures.”

“How close can we beam to that location?”

“Two floors below.”

Jim turned to the Security chief. “Giotto, do we have security near there?”

Lieutenant Commander Giotto glanced at his PADD. “Not yet, sir. That’s pretty far away from the action. Selik must have travelled far to get there.”

“Why do you say that?”

Giotto hesitated, glancing at the green blood that marred the transporter pad. “Well, Captain, he was obviously near the lift explosion, since that was the only one with casualties. That’s on the opposite side of the Starbase.”

“Right.” Jim stared at the blood for a moment, feeling disoriented. “Okay, keep most of the officers where they are, that’s where they’re needed most. But there’s obviously something happening on the other side of the base as well. Let’s send a few that way to check things out.”

“Captain, will you be joining that group?” Giotto knew him well enough to know he liked to get his hands dirty with this sort of mission. 

Jim thought of Selik in surgery, Amanda apparently on a mission of her own, and Spock deserted somewhere down on the base. There were still so many variables, and he did not know where he was needed most. Not yet. He would best serve right were he was, as Captain.

He shook his head. “No, but keep me updated. Tell me if you hear anything new. I’m going to keep trying to talk to the Captain of the pirate ship.” 

“Alright, sir,” Giotto nodded.

Jim sighed and left the transporter room. He needed to be a Starfleet Captain right now and try to save this base. The best thing he could do for the people stuck was to resolve the danger, and that meant confronting this pirate Captain.

He could only hope that Amanda or Spock were not as injured as Selik.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Spock was oddly content.

His body was bruised in ways that he had not been in over a year. His lip and right brow were split from the Orion blows. Two broken ribs made breathing uncomfortable, but not unbearable, and a blow to the head had disoriented him somewhat.

In the end, he had been able to incapacitate two of them with a well-placed nerve pinch, but they had superior weaponry. Eventually even Vulcans fell to a well-placed stun ray. 

Despite this, he felt he had been captured for a worthy reason. He had given Amanda and Selik the chance to escape. His freedom for theirs was logical, and he was perfectly content with the outcome. 

He was in a prison cell, thankfully unshackled, but only a few minutes of inspection revealed that there was not even one loose seam in the metal that built this chamber. The door was tightly sealed, and the metal bars on the window were too strong for him to bend.

He could feel the vibrations of a ship’s hull, so he knew that he had been relocated off of the Starbase, most likely he was now aboard the Orion ship. He could see some evidence of Orion architecture, but there was not enough in the prison cell to make a definitive assessment. 

Spock had been in the cell alone, attempting to meditate to pass the time, for two hours. He considered and dismissed the idea of entering a healing trance; he wanted to be fully aware of his surroundings.

When the Orions opened his door and carried a thin, limp Vulcan girl between them, he stood to his feet automatically and began striding forward. The contentment he had felt left his body instantly, replaced by the sensation of ice water trickling down his spine.

“Do not move, Vulcan!” The largest of the Orions yelled to him. “We will break her.”

Spock stopped, thinking that Amanda already looked broken in their arms. 

They dropped her, and she fell in a heap. The only hint that she was alive came from the short gasp that escaped her mouth as she fell. 

When the door shut again, Spock rushed forward, sliding to his knees next to her. He laid her on her back, flat, the best position for someone with massive blood loss.

“Amanda?”

Her eyes flickered briefly. Her mouth, dry and blood chapped, opened slightly. Spock wished that he had water, anything to help.

“You do not need to speak,” Spock said. He sat next to her, trying to think of anything to help her. “You should enter a healing trance.”

Amanda shook her head. “Too much blood loss.”

Spock could see that she was pale, and she had sustained a few bruises and small cuts on her face and arms, but he saw no other obvious injuries. He saw that her shirtsleeves were ripped and wrapped around her abdomen. He stared closely at the spot where the fabric compressed, realizing now the way the fabric sagged as if it was weighted down with liquid.

“How much blood have you lost?” Spock was not certain if she had such biological awareness as a Vulcan did. But she had revealed earlier that she could control pain and bleeding, which were some of the more advanced arts that Vulcans knew.

“Around forty percent now.” Her voice was steady, although low. 

That was enough blood loss to kill a human. A Vulcan could recover, but only with medical attention. She was correct; a healing trance only worked when there was enough blood to support the brain’s functions. She did not have that capability at this time. 

“Alright,” Spock said, sounding calm. He knew that for someone in shock, as she must be at this point, his appearance of calm would stabilize her. 

Inwardly, Spock’s mind was laboriously trying to find a solution. They needed an advanced sickbay quickly, or Amanda’s heart would soon give out.

“It isn’t alright. I know, Spock. You don’t have to treat me like a child.” Her voice was a whisper. 

“I am not treating you like a child.”

“I’m going to die,” she said.

Spock did not answer. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, choking on tears. 

“You have no need to apologize, Amanda.”

Her eyes went out of focus, leaving his face for a moment. Then her eyes lit, as if she recovered a lost memory. “I did it,” she said.

“What have you done?” Spock asked. She was obviously in shock, obviously losing coherency. He did not know what to do.

“I disabled the interference shields,” she said, grinning at him. “I sent a homing signal to the Enterprise.”

“How?” He stared at this broken shell in front of him in shock. There was no way that she could have done _anything_ in this state.

“One of my best friends is an Orion. He taught me how their communications systems work. I have always enjoyed communications.” She laughed, hoarsely. “Orion ships have large air ducts. Great for playing tag as a kid. Great for sabotaging pirates as a teenager.”

“So transport equipment will now work on the Starbase?” Spock was impressed.

“Yeah. And the Enterprise should know we’re here. Although I don’t think they’ll make it in time for me.”

Spock did not know what to say. He wished he had a tricorder, anything that could make him more useful right now. 

“I got Selik to the Enterprise,” Amanda rasped. 

“You should have gone with him.”

“I had to save you, too.”

Spock’s heart thudded heavily in his chest. “I do not follow your logic.”

“You’re my father.” Her brown eyes flickered to his. They held that warmth in them that reminded him of his mother. 

“I am not—”

“I don’t care when. Spock is my father.” She gave him a weak grin, and it opened a scabbed wound on her lip. “Besides, it is logical. You couldn’t die before I was born.”

Every ounce of Spock’s logic failed him. He was not sure if her statement was logical. All he could think was this it was not _logical_ that he should watch his future daughter—if that is who she was—die before his eyes. 

“I will do everything in my capacity to keep you alive,” he promised. 

She smiled, and it was almost a calm smile. “You and Dad always do.”

Spock’s mind flicked to the Captain. He irrationally wanted Jim to be here. Maybe Jim could comfort Amanda in a way that Spock was incapable. 

“He loves you,” Amanda said, intruding on his thoughts. 

Spock frowned. “I believe you are mistaken.”

“Maybe not like my dads love each other.” She took a deep wheeze. “Not yet. But I think _t’hy’las_ find each other in any universe. At least, I want to believe that.” Her eyes flickered shut. “You should let him have a chance,” she whispered. 

_T’hy’la_? An image of the golden bond from Selik’s memory flashed through his memory.

He pushed that from his mind. Amanda was falling unconscious. He had to focus on her. 

“Amanda?” He brushed his fingers against her psi points.

At his telepathic touch, her eyes opened again. “It hurts.” Her voice was soft and full of weariness. 

Spock nodded. “Can I offer my assistance?” He brushed his fingers softly against her temple, indicating what he wanted to do/

She nodded as her eyes fell closed again. 

The mind meld was not as easy as the surface meld he had made with her earlier. Her consciousness was already growing more distant as her mental functions began to shut down. He had to wade through a thick molasses of thoughts before he was standing across from a mental projection of Amanda.

Here in her mind, she was whole and unharmed. She stood tall, almost eye-to-eye with him. She was looking around her own mind with confusion, as if she did not recognize it. 

The world around Spock was dark and fuzzy, as her thoughts grew farther from her conscious mind. Her _katra_ —her soul—was distancing itself from the pain of the body. 

_Your mind is still here, just farther away than normal._ He offered. 

She seemed to see him for the first time. Her eyebrows rose. 

_We’re melding?_ She asked. Her alarm washed over him.

_Do you remember where you are?_

Her mental projection struggled to think, and then her face set in a grim line as she remembered. 

_I’m dying._ Her mental voice was flat.

_You are in severe pain. I can help alleviate some of the discomfort._

_How_? 

Her face was wary, and Spock made sure to control any emotional reaction of his own so as not to overwhelm her. 

_It would be like meditation. I can guide you through thoughts to keep your mind calm and organized. If we are successful, your consciousness can remain distant from the pain._

A half grin formed on her face. _Finally get me to meditate correctly while I’m dying?_

 _Meditation is not required. I want to help keep you comfortable. We need not even be in your mind. My…_ Spock paused wondering if he really wanted to offer such a mental intrusion. But he could feel the edges of the pain Amanda was feeling in her consciousness, and he found that he was quite willing. _My own mind could serve the same purpose._

At his offer, he sensed her shock. _Really?_

_Indeed._

As the mental landscape shifted into his own, their surroundings grew less dark. His consciousness, more intact and aware than her own, was bright around them by comparison. Spock’s thoughts, emotions, and memories were stored along many pathways laid out before them. 

Amanda stood next to him, looking around with more familiarity than she had shown in her own mind. She had been in his mind before. 

_Not since I was twelve. That’s the last time I melded with you._

Spock supposed it was not terribly uncommon for parents to meld with their children. Yet to him, who had been alone in his mind for most of his life, the thought was slightly off-putting. He found himself curious what his other self shared with his children. 

He sensed that Amanda desired something, so he turned his head and raised an eyebrow.

She smiled sadly at him. _You used to take me to Vulcan. We would watch the sunset from Shi’Kahr._

Spock could not help the deep sorrow from filling his mind at the thought. He knew the exact spot, the exact memories that he could access for her. He had not allowed himself to think of them since losing his home planet and his mother.

 _We don’t have to._ Amanda was standing in front of him now. She grabbed his hand. _I’m sorry._

_No. I will take you._

The mental scene shifted. The temperature grew hotter, the air drier. Spock’s lungs felt cleaner, and his body felt more natural under the heavy gravity. 

Amanda was still holding his hand. 

They were standing over a vista, looking into the Vulcan Forge. His family’s house was behind them, imposing over the distances of endless desert. The bright sun, brighter than Earth’s Sol, was just beginning to set. The colors were beginning their refraction in the atmosphere, changing from clear blue to golden oranges and fire reds. 

“It’s beautiful,” Amanda said, her voice clean and clear. 

Spock looked over at her. She looked younger now. He was not certain if it was a trick of the light, or if her mental projection was de-aging. 

She tugged him forward until they were at the nearest cliff. She released his hand and sat in the desert dirt. She sat with her knees curled into her chest, hugging them close with her arms.

Spock sat next to her, carefully folding himself into a meditation position. He had done this as a child with his mother. She had loved this time of day, as the sun fell and the planet became cool, comparable to a warm day on Earth. 

Spock and his mother would sit for long evenings, watching the sunset as she told stories of Earth, stories of his Human family, and stories of her childhood. 

He had grown out of such things by his teenage years, but the memories remained as some of his most treasured—especially now that this sunset would never be seen outside of a memory ever again. 

“You haven’t been here since your mom died,” Amanda observed, looking over at him, her cheek rested on a knee.

“No, I have not,” he admitted. He looked at the colors of the sunset again. Their familiarity stung something in his chest. “I should have. She would have wanted me to.”

Amanda turned to the scene before them. He sensed her sorrow beginning to seep into the scene, compounding off of his own thoughts. “I don’t want to die, _Sa’mekh_. I am afraid.”

Spock did not correct her use of the term ‘father.’ He did not mind while their minds were connected like this. As with Selik, the familiarity felt natural. 

“It is a logical evolutionary advantage to fear the unknown,” Spock told her. 

Amanda laughed, choking on tears. “Well at least I’m logical in death.”

“Your body is still functioning.”

Amanda closed her eyes, the tears squeezed down her cheeks. “Not for long. I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Stay here," Spock told her. "Stay looking at the sunset." 

She nodded and opened her tear-filled eyes. “Will you tell me stories about Grandma Amanda? They are my favorite.”

“I will. But may I ask why you have this preference?” Spock asked, his heart feeling heavy. 

“She’s proof that Humans and Vulcans can work together. If she could be respected among Vulcans and Humans, then maybe I can—could have—too.” 

Spock nodded, deciding not to continue talking about death. He picked a favorite story, one of her attempting to start an Earth garden on Vulcan. The words flowed from his mind easily, and Amanda seemed to calm as the stories progressed.

At some point in his speaking, Amanda’s head ended up resting on Spock’s shoulder, and he raised an arm to let it settle on her back. 

Spock did not mind her contact as he continued telling stories of Amanda Grayson and watching the brilliant sunset on Vulcan-that-was with Amanda Kirk. As the sun set, Spock felt Amanda's consciousness slipping, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. The sun had not set quite yet.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay between updates. It's a pretty long chapter, so hopefully that makes up for it!

Jim took a deep breath and leaned back in his captain’s chair. His spine ached, and his shoulder blades were stiff with stress. The view-screen had just gone blank, and the negotiations with the pirate were complete, for now. 

Once the interference signal blocking the Starbase had _somehow_ gone down, the tide in the attack turned almost instantly. Due to the oddly encrypted message that arrived from the Orion pirate ship, Jim guessed that the sabotage came from Spock, but he wasn’t sure. He turned to the communication station, and Uhura was already standing there, waiting for him.

“Captain?” She was holding a PADD tightly.

“Any word from Spock or Amanda?”

Uhura nodded. “The hail from the Orion ship was encrypted with a relatively common Vulcan cryptographic code.”

“Has security found them?”

“They should be beaming aboard any minute.”

“Alive?”

Uhura looked down. “I don’t know, sir.”

Jim took a deep breath. He stood carefully, keeping his cool. 

“Sulu, you have the chair.” 

As Jim started striding away, he saw Uhura watching him, her fingers gripped tightly on her PADD. 

“Lieutenant, do you want to come with me?” He offered. 

Uhura was one of Spock’s closest friends, and she had spent quite a bit of time with Amanda over the last week. He supposed he wasn’t the only person worried. 

She hesitated only briefly. “Yes, Captain.”

When they were on the lift, Jim’s communicator beeped, and when he clicked it on, he was met with a flurry of noise. 

“Captain speaking,” Jim said.

“Jim, we’ve got Spock and Amanda. We’re going straight to surgery. I thought you’d want to know,” McCoy’s voice was strained, without a trace of humor. This was serious. 

“Bones, how are they?”

There was no response for a moment. Then, “I’ve gotta go, Jim.”

Static filled the lift when Bones turned his communicator off. 

Uhura looked over at him, her eyes afraid. “Captain, they’re Vulcan. They can handle a lot.”

Jim didn’t respond. He and Uhura made their way to sickbay as quickly as possible. He found himself running through a list of all of the things he had seen Spock survive when he shouldn’t have.

Needless to say, Jim was expecting the worst when he arrived to the medical wing. So he was surprised when he saw Spock standing in the middle of the sickbay, hovering over a biobed, obviously alive. 

When Jim moved so that he could see into the biobed, his heart skipped a beat. Amanda was lying there, pale as death. Her body looked entirely unresponsive. Her clothes were in scraps, and Jim could see a large wound in her abdomen that was mostly hidden by her clothing.

Spock was standing over her, his right hand splayed over Amanda’s face in the familiar meld points. His other hand was grasping her limp wrist tightly. 

Uhura gasped from behind Jim, but Jim wasn’t sure if it was because of the meld or Amanda’s damaged body. 

McCoy was standing next to Spock, looking at him with wild and stressed eyes. 

“Spock, you’ve got to let her go!”

Jim’s throat closed at Bones’ words. He walked up behind Spock and looked up at the stats above the biobed. There was nothing there. 

“Bones?” Jim’s voice was raw. 

Bones glanced over at him. “Tell Spock to get out of the meld. He won’t listen to me.”

“Is she--?” Jim looked at Amanda’s broken body.

“Spock is keeping her with us right now. Vulcan hoodoo. But I need him to let go so I can operate on her. Their stats are mingling right now, so the biobed and the tricorders are getting unreliable readings.”

“If he lets go, will she die?” Jim asked, hoarsely. 

“If she’s that far gone, there’s not much I can do anyway, Jim. But I need Spock to let go to have a chance of saving her. And who knows what the hell it’s doing to him putting his mind in a dying—” Bones stopped, immediately looking apologetically at Jim. 

Jim did not meet Bones’ gaze. Instead he walked to his first officer. He put a gentle hand on Spock’s shoulder. Spock did not respond at all; he would normally jerk away at such contact. 

He watched the outline of Spock’s features, set in an almost calm expression. His eyes were closed, and it caused a cut on his brow to pull and bleed slightly. 

Jim looked down at where Spock was holding Amanda’s arm. Vulcans were touch-telepaths. Every touch meant more to them because every touch conveyed more than mere physical sensation. It’s why Spock was so careful to avoid unnecessary contact with crewmembers. 

So Jim reached forward and grasped Spock’s wrist. He made sure all of his thoughts were strong, reassuring, and mostly calm. 

Spock stiffened at the contact. 

“Spock,” Jim said softly. “Let go.”

At their point of contact, Jim imagined that he could feel electricity under the surface. 

Jim felt the muscles in Spock’s wrist loosen as the Vulcan let Amanda go. 

When Spock and Amanda were no longer connected, Spock’s shoulders sagged, and he stumbled backward slightly. Jim tried to let go of Spock’s wrist, but his first officer grasped his fingers tightly. 

The biobed started beeping wildly, and Jim looked up. 

Every stat was glowing red. Amanda’s heart rate was practically non-existent, but it was still beating. 

“Okay!” Bones yelled. “I need blood. Spock! Get in a bed now. She’s not gone yet.”

“Take my blood,” Spock whispered, looking exhausted. 

Bones only hesitated a moment. “Fine. We can send it through a filter first because heaven knows what kind of injuries you have right now,” Bones said, while simultaneously sticking an IV into Amanda’s arm. Bright green blood from a synthetic blood bag started flowing into her veins. 

Medics were carefully stripping her shirt from her top, revealing a rough green laceration that was easily over 10 centimeters long. Jim swore. 

Spock’s eyes were glued to Amanda, and Jim tugged him into the biobed next to her. Spock’s hand was still holding his in a death grip, but Jim didn’t complain. 

“Spock, are you hurt?” Jim asked, as Spock lay back in the bed. 

Uhura walked to the foot of Spock’s bed, although her eyes were stuck on Amanda. 

“I have minimal injuries, Captain.”

“What about Amanda? You were in her head, right?”

Spock visibly flinched. “Her blood volume is less than fifty percent.”

Jim’s breath caught. 

“Where is Selik?” Spock asked. 

“He’s recovering. He’s going to be fine,” Jim told him.

Spock relaxed minutely at that, but he was watching Amanda’s stats worriedly. 

“Commander Spock?” Nurse Chapel walked up to Spock’s bed. She was holding tricorder, syringe, and pulling a cart with her. “I’m going to start taking your blood now. Doctor McCoy is going to take Amanda into another room for surgery. I’ll send your blood through this filter and then take it back for surgery.”

She pulled three hypos out of her pocket, and Jim winced. “One for pain, one antibiotic, and another to make your blood replicate faster to replace what I take. Is that alright?”

Spock nodded silently. He looked over Uhura and Jim and then down at his lap. 

“Amanda should have beamed aboard with Selik,” Spock said, his voice low. 

The Vulcan didn’t even flinch when Nurse Chapel stuck three hypos into his neck.

“How did she end up with you instead?” Jim asked.

“She came back for me.” Spock’s voice was pained.

“Oh.” Jim looked down at where their hands were tangled together. He imagined he could feel some of Spock’s sadness through the touch, some of his worry. But Jim was not a telepath, and he could not be sure. 

“She’s just like you, both of you,” Uhura said, her eyes gentle. 

They all watched as Bones wheeled Amanda away, into a clean room for surgery. 

“I did all that I had the ability to do,” Spock said, looking away from the surgery room. He looked at Uhura. “I kept her mind away from the pain. I kept her body functioning.”

Uhura nodded. “I know you did. Of course you did.”

Jim watched Spock’s blood flow from his arm, a dark green slime running into a machine and out the other side into a reservoir. 

“Vulcans can do that?” Jim asked, his brows rising. 

Uhura nodded as Spock explained, “It is what allowed her to continue when her brother could not. Vulcans can regulate pain via hormonal control.”

“So you’re stronger and better at dealing with pain?” Jim smiled painfully. “That’s just not fair.”

“Spock, are you really alright?” Uhura glanced over his body. “If you need medical attention, we can get a nurse. Amanda has all the best hands helping her.”

Spock glanced down at himself and at his fingers that were grasping Jim’s tightly.

“I have two broken ribs, and I sustained a concussion, although I cannot be certain if my current mental state is due to the injury or the meld with Amanda.”

“Your current mental state?” Uhura questioned. 

Spock’s eyes glanced from Jim to Uhura, measuring. “I feel unstable.”

The admission shocked Jim. Spock, his stoic Vulcan, was admitting a feeling…a vulnerable feeling.

“Do you need to meditate?” Uhura’s eyes were wide, obviously surprised too.

“Uncertain.”

Jim pulled fingers away. “It can’t help touching a human. I know how that bothers you.”

Spock let Jim’s hands go, flushing, as if he had not realized what he was doing. When they lost contact, Spock blinked a few times. 

“I apologize for the inappropriate contact, Captain. The sustained meld with a severely injured individual has affected my reasoning capabilities and my _katra_.”

“It’s fine, Spock.” Jim flexed his fingers a few times. They felt tingly from the contact. “What’s a _katra_?”

“The Vulcan term for consciousness or soul.” Uhura frowned. “Spock, McCoy was right, melding with an unconscious individual is dangerous. If she had died while you were melded with her…”

Spock’s eyes were unreadable, but Jim thought he saw fear in them. “After considering my options, I determined that the benefits outweighed the risks. In addition, she risked her life for me. It only seemed appropriate to return the favor.”

“What happened, exactly?” 

Spock told them the whole story, from when he found the children, battered from the explosion, bleeding out with every step. He told them about his attempt to get them to safety by distracting the Orions. His subsequent capture had both Uhura and Jim shifting with alarm. When he revealed that _Amanda_ had been the savior of the Starbase, they were both in shock.

“But she’s really, really injured,” Jim protested. “How could she possibly have done all that?”

“She’s brilliant,” Uhura said, shaking her head. “I’ve been working with her over the last week. She’s got a knack for languages and computer programming.” She smiled softly at them. “She’s her fathers’ daughter.”

“Then she better survive,” Jim said vehemently. “Because that’s what Spock and I are best at.” He looked in the direction of the surgical unit, his chest feeling heavy. 

“I’ll go inform the bridge crew you’re safe, Spock. And make sure you have someone take a look at your ribs,” Uhura said. 

“Thank you, Nyota.” Spock’s voice was tired. 

“Good bye, Captain.” She gave Jim a supportive smile before dashing off. 

Jim watched the door she disappeared through, feeling useless. He wanted to help someone, but right now, it just felt like he had to wait.

Nurse Chapel came out of the surgery room and bustled over to Spock. She went to the blood filtration machine and started tapping buttons.

“That should be enough for now. I’m going to take this back to surgery,” she told them. “We’re almost out of synthetic Vulcan blood.”

She efficiently pulled the needle out of Spock’s arm and bandaged him.

Jim wanted to ask how everything was, but he supposed if they were still in surgery, at least Amanda was still alive. So instead he said, “Spock needs medical attention. Who should I grab?”

“Captain, I can wait,” Spock protested.

“No, no, here.” Nurse Chapel grabbed the PADD by Spock’s bed and tapped a few keys. “Doctor Fisher will come by soon.” She smiled at both of them. “Doctor McCoy has pulled off miracles before,” she said.

When she was gone, Jim turned to Spock. “I think that was supposed to make us feel better, but I think I just feel worse.”

Spock didn’t respond, but his expression was grim. 

“Do you want some quiet right now?” 

“I believe meditation would be beneficial.” Spock’s eyes were unfocused. The sight of his usually stable Vulcan first officer acting listless was alarming.

“Okay, Spock.” 

Jim knew he needed to leave, but Spock looked so vulnerable. 

Just then a doctor in crisp medical blues came up. He was an older man, with dark skin and peppery gray hair, one of the few older Starfleet members on their crew. “Hello Captain,” he nodded at Jim and then looked to Spock, “Commander, I’m Dr. Fisher.” He picked up Spock’s PADD. “You haven’t been scanned yet?”

“No, Doctor.”

“Alright,” he pulled out a tricorder. He looked up at Jim while scanning. “For medical confidentiality purposes, would you mind leaving Captain?” 

“Oh,” Jim nodded, immediately moving to leave. “Sorry. Yeah.” He looked to his First Officer. “I’ll be back soon, Spock.”

Spock's eyes followed Jim as he left the sick bay. Jim could almost swear from the look in his eyes that his First Officer didn’t want him to leave. 

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Selik came back into consciousness slowly. His awareness was primarily physical at first. He felt the familiar dull ache that came with newly healed tissue and stiff muscles from being still for too many hours. He started with his toes and slowly moved up his body, flexing muscles, testing for discomfort.

With his telepathic awareness came the pain. The pain was dull and raw, like his telepathic centers had been grated away. He gasped with it, stopping himself from crying out only by force of will. 

His eyes flew open, and bright lights burned his sensitive retinas. 

The lights were fluorescent, but he could sense the ultraviolet light as well. He was in a medical facility of some sort. 

He was disoriented and could not remember how he got there. 

“Selik?”

The voice that called his name was deep, familiar. 

“ _Sa’mekh_?” He turned to the voice, his neck protesting the motion. “Why is our bond broken?”

His father was in the bed next to him, looking at him with concern. He was wearing the medical gown typically provided by medical wards, and he had a black compression device around his middle. 

“Selik, do you remember where you are?” Spock’s voice was gentle in the way that only his family members could detect.

Selik blinked his eyes a few times, his vision fully clearing as his irises adjusted to the light levels. He saw now that the Spock next to him did not look precisely like his father. This man had fewer years in the creases around his eyes and mouth. 

In a rush, he remembered. He and Amanda were stuck in the past. 

The explosion. 

He could only recall the sudden blinding pain…and Amanda’s presence filling his mind. He thought he could remember Spock being there too, but his memories were too hazy to make a confident conclusion.

“Where is Amanda?” He sat up swiftly and immediately regretted the action. The skin on his abdomen was tender to motion. 

“She is in a telepathic isolation room in a comatose state,” Spock provided, his expression dark. 

“You mean a healing trance?”

“Negative. A healing trance is self-induced. Dr. McCoy induced the coma to allow her neural pathways to heal more effectively.”

“She has brain damage?” Selik’s throat closed on the words.

“Her brain was deprived of oxygen for some time due to blood loss.”

“So her mind is damaged?”

“The presence or extent of damage will be unknown until she awakens.”

Selik’s heart was pounding heavily in his chest. He probed tentatively at his bond with his sister in his mind. She was there, the bond was intact, but it was totally dormant. 

“How much time has passed?” Selik was discomfited to find that his internal clock had been disrupted.

“You have been unconscious for two days.”

“What happened?”

“There was a pirate attack on the Starbase, meant to disrupt the meeting which the Enterprise was facilitating. Your sister saved everyone, including myself and you.”

Selik looked down, his chest feeling full. He needed to meditate, to calm his thoughts. He felt utterly human just then, and he was out of his depth. 

“She acted with profound bravery.”

“This is unsurprising.” Selik swallowed. “While reckless and illogical, Amanda is a commendable individual.”

Spock nodded solemnly.

Then Doctor McCoy walked out of his office, probably having heard them conversing. He approached Selik with a slight smile.

“Good to see you awake, kid.”

“Thank you for your medical assistance. I assume you worked on myself and my sister?”

“Yeah, you’ve both inherited your parents’ predilection for getting hurt, I gather.” The expression on McCoy's face was a familiar one of fond exasperation.

“I suppose our injury rate is higher than the average child, but our Vulcan heritage has usually served us well.” 

“Yeah." McCoy nodded toward the Commander. "Spock’s telepathic CPR is what kept your sister alive for close to an hour.”

Selik frowned. “You had to keep her alive?”

Spock nodded slowly. “She lost too much blood.”

Selik had to force his mind to stop calculating probabilities of brain damage. He did not ask any more questions for the same reason. 

“Do you mind if I comm Jim, Selik? He wanted to know when you woke up.” Doctor McCoy was reading the PADD that contained the details of his physical status. “I can tell him later if you’re too tired for him right now.”

“His presence would be acceptable,” Selik agreed. Although he honestly would prefer silence, he found the idea of not informing Captain Kirk of his health distasteful. He supposed he still had an emotional soft spot for James Kirk, even if he was not yet his dad. 

“I believe he has something to give you,” McCoy said, his voice held some emotion that Selik could not place.

Selik raised his eyebrows at the Doctor.

“Doctor McCoy’s cryptic statement refers to the fact that we believe we received something from your parents via the transporter,” Spock clarified.

Selik’s head snapped to Spock. “You believe?”

“We received a data chip. It contains a video file entitled, ‘For Selik and Amanda.’ We believed it would be distasteful to open a missive obviously meant for yourself and your sister while you were unconscious.”

Selik was filled with too many emotions. His mind was a mix of fear and anxiety over his sister, but now a sense of relief and satisfaction that his time travelling algorithm had worked. And soon, he would view a video from his parents. 

When Captain Kirk came into the room, he had a smile on his face, perhaps not as bright as usual, but the sight gave Selik a sense of calm. Selik immediately noticed the data chip that the Captain held in his hand.

“Selik, I’m glad you’re alright,” Kirk said with sincerity.

“I am as well,” Selik agreed. 

“I suppose they told you about the data chip?” Kirk asked, placing it gently in Selik’s outstretched hand.

“When did it arrive?” Selik held the chip gently, illogically fearing he might damage it. 

Doctor McCoy held out an unused PADD for him, and Selik accepted it. He found himself wishing he had Vulcan hormonal controls so that he could stop his hands from shaking. 

“Yesterday evening,” Spock answered.

“Are you gonna watch it now?” Kirk asked. 

Selik considered. He wished his sister were with him to express the emotions that he could not, but he found that he was too anxious about the contents of the video to wait. 

“Yes, I believe I will.”

“We can leave you alone,” Kirk said, starting to back away. 

“No,” Selik said softly. “You can stay.” If he could not have his sister, he would take these men who were shadows of his real family. 

He quickly navigated to access the files on the data chip. There was only one file, formatted as a video. With a shaking index finger, he selected that video. 

An image of his fathers appeared on the screen. His dad was grinning from ear to ear. His father, as usual, wore a neutral expression, but Selik could imagine the hint of a smile in his eyes. 

The sight of them affected Selik more than he thought it would. His breathing caught. 

“Hey guys!” His dad said with a bright wave. Selik’s stomach turned, thinking about how his sister was not with him.

Captain Kirk stiffened at the sound of his own voice. 

“We’re so glad you’re alright,” his dad continued, with feeling. “We love you so much.”

“I second your dad’s sentiment,” his father’s deep voice agreed. 

Selik glanced to the Spock that sat next to him. The Commander was frowning in the general direction of the PADD Selik grasped tightly in his fingers. 

Selik ignored him and went back to watching his parents. 

“I hope you guys are doing alright,” his dad said. His bright blue eyes were light with obvious happiness. “If I know our younger selves, we’re quite a handful. You didn’t mention _when_ in the past you are. I hope Spock and I don’t hate each other too much.”

“Jim,” his father chided. “It is distasteful to tell our children such information.”

“They might be experiencing it first hand,” his dad reminded. “But anyway, the data chip you guys sent back came through perfectly. Bones wants to send a tribble through the transporter to see how it deals with organic material, so be looking for a tribble in the coming days. We wanted to send this separately though, just in case the tribble messed things up.

“And I _know_ experimenting with living material is distasteful to Vulcans, but your father and I would rather risk a tribble than you.”

Selik found himself smiling, although he rarely did so. The emotions he was feeling were strong, and it felt good to let them out in such a human way. 

“The crew of the Enterprise has requested that we inform you both how much your presence has been missed,” his father said. “They eagerly anticipate your return.”

“And by that, your father means that he’s been beside himself without you both.” His dad leaned over into his father, nudging him with a fond smile on his face. His father narrowed his eyes as his dad, but even Selik could tell there was no actual animosity behind it. 

His father then took a deep breath, and his dark eyes met the camera. “Amanda, I sincerely regret the last words we exchanged with one another,” his voice was calm but solemn. Selik was shocked that his father admitted regret; regret was illogical. “I have no desire to change you, only to help you.”

Selik felt guilty listening to a message meant only for his sister, but he found he did not want to stop listening to his parents.

“In addition, I have spoken with Noah McCoy and informed him of your well being.” 

Selik raised his eyebrows, although he knew that his parents could not see him. The fact that Spock had willingly spoken to Amanda’s _friend_ was obviously his father’s attempt at a sincere apology.

His dad seemed to believe the same, as he was grinning widely. He pulled Spock close and kissed the side of his head. The affectionate display caused an audible and obviously identifiable popping noise when his dad pulled his lips away. 

Selik found himself flushing and averting his gaze. He looked at McCoy, whose jaw was wide open. Captain Kirk was flushing as well, but he was looking down. Commander Spock’s eyes were wide in what Selik could only guess was horror. 

“ _Jim_ , this is highly inappropriate, and I must vehemently request that we begin an alternate recording.”

“Come on, Spock, they need to see that we haven’t changed. Stability is good for children.”

Selik looked back to the screen. His father was flushed green and now glaring at his dad openly. 

“Sorry, sorry, Spock, I’ll behave now.” His dad smiled wanly out of the PADD. “It’s so weird talking without getting a response immediately.”

His father sighed. “We wished to give you both our regards, and we eagerly await your return.”

“Take care of yourselves, guys. And again, we love you. Try to keep out of trouble.”

His dad waved eagerly, while his father lifted his fingers in the _ta’al_.

Then the video went still. 

Selik kept his eyes on their image for longer than was necessary, but he had not missed them quite this acutely until now. Amanda was severely injured, and he felt more alone than he had in his whole life. 

“Noah _McCoy_?” Captain Kirk queried, his voice high pitched.

Selik frowned at Kirk, allowing himself to be distracted. “Yes. Doctor McCoy has a son similar in age to myself and Amanda.”

“Okay, fine, fine, but—”

“ _Fine_?!” McCoy yelped. “I have a son? Who the hell do I have a son with?!” 

“Bones! That isn’t the most pressing part! Isn’t Amanda’s boyfriend named Noah?” Kirk asked Selik.

The young part-Vulcan sighed. “I suppose that is the most appropriate term. Did Amanda inform you of this?”

“She left the McCoy part out. _My_ daughter is dating _Bones’_ son?” Kirk flailed his arms on the words. 

Selik did not respond, wanting to feel amused at Kirk’s outburst, but unable to think past his sister’s current status.

Kirk seemed to realize this at the same time, and he sobered. “She better wake up so I can heckle her about this.” He kicked at the ground while crossing his arms over his chest.

No one said anything; even McCoy let their current topic go.

“How are your ribs, Spock?” Captain Kirk asked, breaking the silence after a moment. 

“Acceptable, Captain.” Spock’s voice was strained, and Selik realized that he had not said anything in response to the video.

Selik ignored the men around him and picked the PADD up again. He stared at the faces frozen in it and let himself be overcome with his sorrow. He knew he was not being very Vulcan, and yet the emotions demanded to be felt. 

He did not take note of the other people in the room until Captain Kirk was standing right next to his bed. 

Selik looked up at the bright blue eyes that mirrored his own. 

“Is there anything we can do to help, Selik?” Kirk’s gaze was gentle, and Selik could almost pretend it was his dad.

“I apologize. I am finding all of this very…difficult.”

The Captain sat on the bed and put a soft hand on Selik’s shoulder. Their gazes met. “Amanda will wake up any day now, and both of you will go home as good as new.”

“The statistical likelihood of Amanda making a full—”

“Hey, Mister Spock, how often do I listen to statistics?” Kirk asked without breaking his gaze with Selik.

“Approximately thirteen point four six percent of the time.”

“We’re Kirks, Selik.” Kirk smiled at him. “We pull off the impossible. It’s what we do.” 

Although he knew Kirk’s logic was faulty and that his premise was infantile, Selik found himself comforted. 

“Thank you, Captain.”

Kirk smiled and removed his hand from Selik’s shoulder. “You can call me Jim.”

Selik nodded. “Jim.”

“Okay,” McCoy said with a heavy sigh. “We should let Selik rest; he’s been through an ordeal.”

Jim moved in McCoy’s direction, nodding. “Yeah.”

“May I keep this PADD, Doctor?” Selik asked, flushing slightly, feeling embarrassed and childish. “I know it is illogical—”

“It is not illogical at all. You better keep that with you. You’ll need it to show your sister when she wakes up,” Doctor McCoy said firmly, a supportive smile on his face. 

Selik grasped the PADD tighter. 

When Kirk and McCoy had left, Selik looked at Spock. “I apologize if the video distressed you.”

Spock flushed slightly. “Apologies are unnecessary.”

“My fathers’ relationship does not need to mirror your own.”

“I am aware.”

Selik watched Commander Spock, realizing for the first time how very much younger this man was than his own father. He realized that this Spock was closer to Selik’s own age than his father’s age. To call this Vulcan the same as his father was a great folly. 

“But you wish for it to do so?” Selik questioned, tilting his head. 

Spock frowned into his lap. “I had believed Captain Kirk’s mind to be a distraction due to its human nature, and yet in the days since this ordeal his presence has been calming.”

Selik furrowed his brow. The answer was circuitous, which was uncharacteristic of Vulcans. 

“I find myself facing a similar emotional paradox with Amanda,” Selik told him. “Her mind is irrational to me, and yet I find her presence balancing.” His chest felt full of pressure. “In her vernacular, she is my best friend.”

Spock nodded. “I consider Captain Kirk to be my friend.”

“There are many kinds of relationships,” Selik observed. He was not sure if his fathers being _t’hy’la_ implied that all Spocks and Kirks would share that bond, but then again, there was no guarantee that _t’hy’la_ share a romantic relationship.

“A complicated consequence of living among humans.”

“We are part human,” Selik reminded. “We therefore add to the complication.”

“Perhaps.”

“I find that the best way to sort out any complication is to approach it with the same logic as one might with a scientific problem.”

Commander Spock seemed to consider that. And then with an oddly determined look, he began to climb out of his bed. 

McCoy must have seen him because he came out of his office waving his hands. “What the blazes are you doing, Spock? Your ribs are still healing.”

“I believe they are sufficiently healed, Doctor.” The Commander started to unclasp the device he wore around his middle. 

“They’re still tender. You’ll re-break them,” McCoy protested. He made an abortive motion to stop Spock, but then realized that would involve making skin contact.

“I do not intend to engage in any rigorous physical activity. I will not repeat my injury.”

“How many times have I been told that?” Doctor McCoy sighed, crossing his arms. 

“I am not Captain Kirk,” the Commander said unnecessarily. 

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you need to come in for follow ups twice a day for the next three days, alright?”

“As you wish,” Spock agreed. 

“What’s got you in such a hurry?” McCoy was frowning, but he helped Spock ease the healing device off.

Spock paused, taking a breath. “I have some urgent research which I need to address.”

“Research? Can’t some of your science department lackeys do it for you?”

The Commander gave McCoy a patient look. “The members of the science department are highly accomplished individuals with whom I am privileged to work. However, this research is of a personal nature.” Spock’s eyes drifted to meet Selik’s. 

Selik frowned.

“I will never understand Vulcans.” McCoy threw his arms in the air and walked away with Spock’s healing mechanism.

“Where are you going?” Selik asked, confused. 

Spock was still watching him. “I intend to speak with the Captain.”

Then Selik understood. “Applying the scientific method to your personal complications?”

Spock’s lips almost twitched into a smile. “Indeed.” He stood silently next to Selik’s bed for a moment before saying, in a subtle Spock-gentle voice, “I will return. If you require anything, you may contact me.”

Selik nodded. “Thank you, Commander.”

As Spock prepared himself to leave the sickbay, Selik turned back to the PADD in his hand, still paused on the image of his parents. He sighed and closed his eyes. His sister needed to recover. She simply must. She would.

In that moment, Selik did not let himself think any differently, just as Captain Kirk had told him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the update delay. Finals and all that jazz. So this story has another chapter or two on it, and then an epilogue and it'll be done. Thanks so much to all you lovely readers! I might put up some one shot sequels because I have lots of little story ideas in my head for this universe, but we'll see :D I also have another story I'm thinking about uploading soon.
> 
> But anyway...here ya go! Enjoy!

Spock found the captain on the observation deck, sitting in a very similar position to how he had found Selik weeks ago, his similar shock of blonde hair clashing with the gold command uniform. 

“Captain?” Spock said, drawing attention to his presence. 

Kirk twisted his head, looking back at his first officer with raised eyebrows. “Spock? How’d you get out of sickbay?”

Spock walked further into the room. “Doctor McCoy conceded to my request to be released.”

Kirk grinned. “You wrangled him into it?”

“He conceded to my logic.”

“I wish I had seen that happen,” Kirk said with a happy sigh. Spock contained the desire to roll his eyes and said nothing. He stood next to the captain, watching the stars out of the viewport. “But seriously, are you feeling alright?”

Spock did not look to the captain as he answered. “With adequate rest, I should heal proficiently.”

“I’m glad.” Kirk sighed. “Now we just need Amanda to wake up.”

“Yes,” Spock agreed.

“Future me will totally kill present me if I don’t take care of his daughter.”

“That would be counterproductive…and paradoxical.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m an illogical human, and it’s what I’d do.” Kirk looked up at him. “You gonna sit down or hover over me all afternoon?”

Spock contained a sigh and slid to the ground.

“Did you come here for something in particular?” Kirk asked.

Spock hesitated. The science officer prided himself on being a logical and thoughtful individual, but he was channeling some other, less developed, part of his psyche at this moment. He supposed he had a bit of human impulsiveness. 

“I came to pass time, Jim.”

Kirk’s eyes softened at Spock’s use of his given name, a pleasant effect for which Spock had been aiming.

“This is all insane, isn’t it?”

The question was vague, but Spock had been around humans for far too long to be confused.

“Indeed.”

“I mean, running into our kids from the future. When I signed up for Starfleet, this is not what I was imagining.”

“They are not truly our children,” Spock reminded.

“Sure,” Jim shrugged. “But they’re not just random kids either…Selik’s so, so intelligent and thoughtful like you. And Amanda’s just this stupidly brave and stubborn kid, and it makes me angry and proud that she’s inherited that from me and I know it.” Jim gesticulated at nothing in particular, obviously quite overcome with emotion. “And man, that video Spock, what the hell was that? How weird was that?”

Spock shifted uncomfortably. “Yes.”

“That was _us_.”

“Yes, Jim.”

“I _kissed_ you.”

“A version of you, yes.”

“I mean, I _know_ that you and Uhura kissed, but I think part of me is still a dumb prejudiced hick who thinks Vulcans don’t do emotion, even though I know for a personal fact that you do…”

“Jim,” Spock leaned forward and touched the captain’s wrist. “You are rambling,”

“You didn’t even let me get into full rambling mode,” Kirk laughed.

Spock knew that he was morally obliged to minimize emotional transference when he made physical contact with non-telepathic species, but he could often not stop some bleed through. He also could not stop the projection from James T. Kirk when he was practically blasting affection toward Spock’s mind.

The Vulcan’s breath caught, and he withdrew his hand.

Jim rubbed his fingers where Spock’s hand had been. “Is this tingling feeling a remnant of the telepathy?”

Spock tilted his head. “Tingling?”

“Yeah, when we touch, it’s…I dunno…it feels tingly.”

Spock frowned. “As a psi-null humanoid, you should be incognizant of any telepathy.”

“And yet, the tingling.”

The first officer furrowed his brow and met his captain’s blue eyes. “I have kept something from you that I believe has become relevant.”

“What’s that?” Kirk did not look offended at this admission, merely confused.

“When I assisted Selik in ordering his mind, I saw some of his memories, including memories of you and I. In one such memory, I saw the mental link that we shared. The bond was unlike any I had ever seen.” 

Spock had to look away from those piercing blue eyes. He stared back out of the view screen, letting a nearby star cluster have his attention. “And when Amanda was delirious with blood loss, she called us _t’hy’la_. The word is Vulcan, difficult to translate clearly into Standard. In simplest terms, it would define us as brothers of the mind, compatible spirits meant to live side by side.”

“That’s really damn poetic for a Vulcan, Spock.” Jim was smiling at him when he looked back at his friend.

“In a culture of emotionally reserved individuals, such a bond is cherished. To have the privilege of someone with which to truly share and understand emotions is the rarest of gifts.”

Jim sighed. “You and I seem to misunderstand one another more than understand, Spock. Maybe we’re not their parents.”

Spock frowned, considering.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re my family.” Jim’s voice was firm and earnest. “So is Bones and everyone else Enterprise. I don’t know who I am without you guys. But I think I piss you off more often than anyone else.”

“You are a challenge to me.” Spock protested. “You are in many ways a foil to myself. The experience is often difficult, but ultimately rewarding. I find our interactions largely beneficial and always engaging. The ‘tingling’ sensation you describe may be a natural by product of mental compatibility. If we are _t’hy’la_ as Amanda and Selik’s parents are, then our minds would attract to one another, not unlike the poles of a magnet.”

“Is that your way of saying opposites attract?” 

“Perhaps.”

“I don’t piss you off?”

Spock held back a smirk and met Jim’s eyes. “I did not say that.”

Jim laughed. “I make you angry, but you also kind of want me?” 

Spock felt himself flushing. “It is illogical,” he hedged.

“The illogical relationships are the best ones.” Kirk reached out and grasped Spock’s hand. 

_Affection. Lust. Worry._

Spock gasped at the onslaught. “I do not understand.”

Kirk moved closer to him, so that their hips touched. “Don’t try to.”

The Vulcan looked at where their hands intertwined on his lap, letting Kirk’s surface emotions wash over him. He took a deep breath.

“Do you think Amanda and Selik are ours from the future?” Kirk asked, also looking at their fingers. 

“Even if they are, this timeline has been altered by their presence.”

“I think I want them.” Kirk shook his head. “And I never thought I’d want kids, not really.”

“I was under the impression that couples do not discuss the possibility of children until they have been in a relationship for an extended period of time.” 

“Whatever. We’re hardly normal. You tried to kill me.” Jim smiled at him to show he was not upset about it. 

“And now we have met our children before ever engaging in a romantic relationship,” Spock added.

Kirk shrugged and looked back to the stars. “So I apologize if I’m going out of order a bit.”

“I will also regret their absence when we transport them back to their time.” 

“Do you think Amanda will wake up?” Jim’s voice lost its playful edge abruptly. 

_Sorrow. Worry._

Spock held his hand tighter. “Her mind was still intact when our meld ended.”

Kirk nodded. They sat in companionable silence for a while. Spock was not certain if their current point of contact meant that they were admitting romantic feelings toward one another, but he found that he did not mind. There would be time enough to discuss such things, but right now, he could just enjoy Kirk’s company.

“This may sound weird, but I’m glad it’s you,” Kirk said, breaking the silence. “Our personalities might be really different, but we make some pretty great kids.”

“I regret that they must balance two natures as I have.” Spock frowned. “I was always wary of reproduction for that reason.”

“Luckily, they have a pretty fantastic half-Vulcan to help them out.” Jim bumped his shoulder with Spock’s.

“I am still conflicted myself,” Spock admitted. “It sometimes seems to me that Selik has greater peace of mind than I.”

“Where do you think he learned it from?” Jim grinned over at him.

Spock met Jim’s eyes. “Perhaps.”

Kirk laughed. “So what does this mean for us?” He shook their joined hands. 

“I am uncertain.”

“Well what do you _want_?”

“Also uncertain.”

Kirk laughed harder and tilted his head back. “Spock, you’ve gotta give me something to work from.”

“I do not understand what you want.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Oh come on.” 

And then suddenly Jim was leaning into Spock’s personal space, his earthy, human scent assaulting the Vulcan’s senses. Human fingers brushed over his psi-points, threading into his hair, and Spock gasped with the sensation before Jim’s lips captured his.

Jim’s mouth was soft and hot on his, and Spock reacted instinctually opening his lips to the more insistent man next to him. Spock did not have time to fortify his mental shields to so much contact, so Jim’s mind pressed against his consciousness, an odd sensation of warmth and lust and wild color flashing in his mind. 

All of Spock's mental faculties were suddenly dedicated to everything Jim. He was hyperaware of the way Jim's lips moved under his and the way his hands reached around Jim's hips and pulled him closer. Spock's mind formed a stream of _want_ and _Jim_ and _more, more, more,_ while rebounding off of Jim's own flurry of emotion. 

The whirlwind of physical and mental contact stopped abruptly when Kirk pulled away. 

Spock blinked a few times, his eyes focusing on the brilliant blue ones in front of him. 

“That was awesome. Could you read my mind?” Kirk’s smile was bright. His whole body was turned to face the first officer, his face flushed from the kiss.

Spock opened his mouth and then closed it. He could not think of anything save the way Jim’s fingers had run through his hair.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss someone speechless.”

“Jim,” Spock finally spoke.

“Okay, so not speechless, but I’m going to count it anyway.” Kirk was bounding with energy, and Spock still imagined he could feel the chaos of Jim’s mind. 

“I apologize. I was surprised.”

“Sorry about that.” Kirk rubbed the back of his head, flushing. 

“You misunderstand. I am not complaining.”

Jim grinned. “Good.”

They both turned to watch the stars again. Spock could see Kirk shifting out of the corner of his eye, obviously still affected by adrenaline. 

“I think we should try out a relationship, Mr. Spock,” Jim said, not taking his eyes off of the stars. 

Spock’s heart increased its pulse rate by five point seven percent, and he found himself studying Jim’s profile.

“We would have to inform Starfleet,” Spock told him.

“Eh. We can handle it.”

“And the crew.”

“Eh.”

“And Doctor McCoy.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Despite his words, Jim’s voice had laughter in it. His smile sobered slightly. “Amanda will be happy. She’s been wanting this to happen.”

“We will have to tell her.”

“Yeah.”

Spock lifted his arm and put it around Jim. The gesture was a friendly one for most humans, but for Spock, who rarely initiated contact with anyone, the gesture meant more, and Jim knew that.

The captain put his hand on Spock’s leg and squeezed it. “I have a good feeling about this, Spock."

“Me too.”

“How emotional of you,” Kirk said, grinning widely. 

“I believe you are a bad influence.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You are utterly illogical.”

“I know.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

When Amanda lost contact with Spock, she snapped back into a body that felt foreign. There was not enough blood, not enough anything, not even pain. 

Awareness was lost to her, and she let herself sleep. 

The next time she began to regain consciousness, she found herself stuck in her own mind. Her thoughts were not like molasses; she could not move at all. She was stuck in concrete and darkness. 

But she could hear some noises around her. She could not identify the voice that broke into her thoughts, but it was comforting all the same.

“You gotta wake up, sweetheart,” a deep accented voice was saying. “Jim’s going a bit insane. He and the hobgoblin—your father, I guess—have been acting very awkward around me. I think they’ve started _dating_ , heaven forbid. But don’t tell them I know. I’m enjoying making Jim uncomfortable.

“You and I could mess with him together, kiddo. I know you’re in there healing, but if you could try to wake up…well, we’d be real happy.

“And I heard you’re dating my son. I hope I raised him right. Hopefully I have, but let me tell you something: if he hurts you he’ll have another thing comin’ to him.

“Ah, anyway kid, I guess I’ll leave you alone. Your brother’s due for a check up. Sleep well, hun.”

The voice settled Amanda’s uneasiness. The words did not make much sense to her; she could not remember much about where she was or why she was there. But the cadence was familiar and comfortable. 

Time must have passed, but Amanda had no sense of it. Next time she heard voices, they were both different than the last one.

“Think she can hear us?” A hesitant voice spoke.

“There have been incidences of those in comas hearing voices in close proximity to themselves.” The second voice was slightly deeper, its tone flat and logical. Amanda remembered logic and grasped onto the idea. Logic was order, smooth paths of thinking.

“Spock and I are dating now, Amanda,” the first voice said. “I thought you’d like that, since you’ve been rooting for it since you got here.”

 _Amanda_. She remembered the word, turned it over in her mind. She saw images of laughter and warmth. The word belonged to her, and those who used it were important. 

“Doctor McCoy says that she has been showing spikes of neural activity.”

“Kirks survive.”

“I am aware.”

She retreated away from the voices again, but this time, she was more aware of herself. _Amanda_. She became aware of time passing, slowly but surely. 

Organizing her mind was like rebuilding a library after a tornado ripped all of the books apart. She found tattered encyclopedias of her life, flipped through the pages, relearned herself. 

She remembered her family now. Selik was her wonderful and intelligent brother, who was the order and logic in her otherwise hectic existence. James Kirk was her brave and loving dad, who cradled her when she cried and taught her how to laugh. And Spock was her loyal and dedicated father, who taught her how to be passionate and brave about the things in which she believed.

And of course, she found the rest of her Enterprise family. All of them had added their own subtle shape to the core of what made her Amanda Kirk, and she could find them all now. 

Once her mind was passably reordered, she focused on her physical status. Her body was a mess. She recognized that she had received a blood transfusion at some point, enough blood for there to still be some of the foreign DNA left over. Much of the tissue in her abdomen had been regenerated, including some of her heart.

She could recreate her injuries with more detail now as she replayed the hazy memories with a clearer mind, and she could recall all that Spock had done to keep her alive. All that _young_ Spock had done for the girl who was not even his daughter yet. 

With the thoughts of all that she and Selik still had to do to get back home, she decided to wake up.

When she first opened her eyes, it burned, and she shut them abruptly again. 

“Amanda?” Selik’s voice whispered at her side. 

“Se?” She rasped his nickname.

“I will get Doctor McCoy.”

“No,” she said quickly. “Stay.”

She didn’t open her eyes, but she trusted that her brother wouldn’t leave. She lifted her arm, opened her fingers, and Selik’s hand grasped hers. Their sibling telepathic bond opened, and she could feel his all-encompassing relief.

 _Come on, you should know by now that I wouldn’t leave you._ She let her mental assurances flow through their bond.

 _Are you well? Is your mind well?_ Selik’s mental voice was tentative.

 _I think so._ She sent the mental equivalent of a smile. _But my mind’s never been totally stable._

“You should not joke, Amanda.” Selik’s voice was tired. “We’ve been worried.”

The sound of a door slamming open made Amanda’s eyes snap open. The light burned again, but less intensely this time. She could make out shapes in the intense light.

“Amanda?” Bones’ voice was hopeful. She imagined him furiously checking her stats, although she could not see him doing so. “Good, good. Has she spoken?”

“She has said a few words aloud,” Selik answered. “And she can form full coherent sentences in her mind.”

Amanda blinked a few more times, and her vision cleared slightly more with every passing second. Bones’ face appeared above her.

“About time, sweetheart.” His grin was infectious. Amanda tried to respond, but the muscles in her face were slow. 

“Don’t worry about that.” Bones swatted near his head. “If you’re forming coherent sentences in your noggin, I can get your speech and muscle response back in no time.” 

“Good,” she said, intentionally picking the simplest response she could. 

Bones laughed with joy. “Thank God.” He pulled out his communicator. “Can I call Jim and Spock, sweetie?”

“Yeah.” Amanda’s throat hurt, but she relished forming the words in her mouth. 

By the time Spock and Jim had arrived, Amanda had managed to sit upright. Her brother was still holding her hand, now seated next to her, filling her in on what she missed while she was comatose. 

Jim was grinning broadly. “There’s our girl,” he said opening his arms. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

Amanda let a laugh bubble from her, and every muscle, vessel, and organ in her abdomen protested the response. She didn’t care. 

“Don’t overexcite her, Jim,” Bones chastised, watching her every stat with the vigilance of a hawk. 

“I am gratified to see you awake, Amanda,” Spock told her, his voice monotone, but his eyes were light.

“Th-thank you.” She met his eyes, trying to convey all that she could not with words. Thank you for letting me into your memories. Thank you for holding me while I died. 

Spock inclined his head. “I also owe you thanks. You saved my life and the lives of many others. You showed great bravery and intelligence facing terrible obstacles.”

Amanda shrugged. She had only done what her fathers would have done. Speaking of her fathers, she noted that Spock stood approximately two centimeters away from Kirk, which was within standard deviation of her fathers’ average separation. 

She grinned at them as best she could. “T’gether?”

Although the word was garbled, they both seemed to understand. Spock stiffened slightly and inched away from Kirk, while Jim flushed. 

“Uh. Yeah.” Jim ran his fingers through his hair and looked to Bones. “Bones, we were totally going to tell you as soon as Amanda woke up.”

Bones, however, was laughing. “You’re the worst at keeping secrets, Jim. I figured it out days ago.”

Amanda smiled at the doctor, who met her smile with his own. She raised a shaky fist to him, and he bumped it. Then she looked back to Spock and Kirk, the men who would become her fathers. Although they were awkward now, they looked happy, and that’s really all she ever wanted to see.

“Knew it,” she managed to rasp.

Everyone smiled, and Amanda was immeasurably glad that she had lived to see another day with these amazing people who she was lucky enough to call her family.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! One chapter after this one! A reunion and a little bonus on the end!

Two weeks passed before Amanda could leave sickbay without a stern rebuke from McCoy. 

Around a week after Amanda had awoken, an alarmed, but otherwise unharmed, tribble had been transported onto the Enterprise from her own time period. Amanda kept the tribble with her; she said it calmed her down and helped her heal, probably for more reasons than the tribble’s natural calming capabilities. 

Jim helped her with physical therapy. Turned out that getting your abdominal muscles lacerated and regrown was a tricky process from which to recover, but Amanda took it like a champ.

“I’ll be able to beat you in hand-to-hand combat in no time,” Amanda told Jim, giving him a grimace-grin as she did a complex stretch that McCoy had taught her. 

“I’m counting on it.” Jim smiled. “We’re gonna send you guys back home in better shape than you arrived.”

“I’ve got a nasty scar,” Amanda lamented. She lifted the hem of her shirt, exposing the tail end of a scar that disappeared beneath a sports bra. The skin around it was flushed green, still young and sensitive. 

“Bones said that could go away with some deeper treatments that you may as well do at home.” Jim shrugged. “Medicine’s probably better then anyway.”

“Yeah.” Amanda smiled, lowering the shirt. “Maybe I’ll keep it though. A nice memento of you guys.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best memory to keep. Besides, your dads are _us_ so you don’t really need a memento.”

“You guys are sort of different though.” She shrugged.

“We’ll miss you,” Jim said, honestly. “I can only imagine how much your parents were worried.”

“ _Sa’mekh_ was practically bleeding emotion in that video.” Amanda scratched her head. “I’m not sure if I’m more amused or horrified.”

“In my experience, a good Vulcan is a healthy balance of amused and horrified at any given time.” Jim winked. “Does _sa’mekh_ mean father?”

“Yeah. I guess you don’t know Vulcan yet?” 

Jim shrugged. “I’ve got the Universal Translator. But I guess if I’m dating a Vulcan, I should make a bit of an effort to actually learn the language, huh?.”

Amanda grinned at him, as she was wont to do when he brought up his and Spock’s budding relationship. “There are nuances that are lost through the translation protocols.”

“I’m sure.”

“And our clan leaders are much more pleased with our family once you are fluent.” Amanda laughed.

Jim’s eyes widened. “Clan leaders?”

“Don’t worry too much about it.” She winked. “Imagine them meeting Selik: perfect little Vulcan who looks entirely too _human_. Makes them confront some very illogical prejudices.”

“Sounds like fun,” Jim muttered. 

“Oh it is, trust me. Vulcans are a party.” Amanda shrugged. 

“Yeah,” Jim agreed distractedly. 

His mind rolled over what it might be like to meet Vulcan clan leaders who were probably older than all of his family members combined, plus a few years. The thought was terrifying. Hopefully older, other-universe Spock would be one of the elders. Jim always liked to have someone on his side.

“I do not see how an entire race of people can compare to frivolous social gathering.”

Jim smiled at the voice without turning. “Hey Spock.”

“Hello Captain.”

“I take it you are feeling better?” Spock asked Amanda. 

She struck a pose, flexing her muscles. “Better than ever.”

Jim swore he could hear Spock sigh with exasperation. 

“Might I ask how Vulcans are a ‘party?’”

“Just giving Jim a taste of the future.”

Spock must have been feeling indulgent because he didn’t even comment on the illogical synesthesia. 

“I have come to inform you that Selik and I have decided it is safe enough to transport you both to your proper time period.”

Amanda let her arms fall to her sides abruptly. “Oh.”

“Indeed, I believe the program should function as desired with minimal repercussions.”

“So we’re leaving, like, _now_?”

Spock hesitated, taking another half step closer to her. “Selik suggested that you might leave in the morning. We both thought it might be beneficial to tell the entire crew of your departure over dinner.”

Amanda grinned. “So you’re throwing us a going away party?”

Spock sighed. “We are informing the crew of your departure in an informal setting.”

“That’s sweet, Mr. Spock,” Jim said, sliding closer to his First Officer, letting their shoulders bump. Jim beamed up at him.

“Yes. Well,” Spock flushed. “I will see you both at 1800.”

The Vulcan hesitated as he left the room, looking between Jim and Amanda with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Captain, Amanda,” he finally said, nodding and disappearing.

“This is going to be really hard,” Amanda said, still watching him leave. “I know we’re going back to our dads, but…”

Jim pulled her into an embrace. “We’ll miss you. But remember, they _are_ us.”

“I know. Just don’t be surprised if I cry tomorrow, or tonight,” she mumbled into his shoulder. The fabric of Jim’s uniform against her skin was familiar, and her chest grew tight. 

“Deal. Don’t be surprised when I hug you.”

“Deal.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Only McCoy, Jim, and Spock came to the transporter room. Any more people was unnecessary, and if Jim were honest, he wanted to say goodbye alone. 

“You kids behave now,” McCoy was saying as Selik checked the transporter for the millionth time while Amanda watched with a sad look in her eyes. “One life threatening injury is enough.”

“Yes, Uncle Bones,” Amanda said, smiling softly at him. Everyone knew it was highly unlikely she would listen.

Bones looked about as sentimental as Jim ever saw him. 

“Dammit, girl, I’m going to miss being called that.”

Amanda shrugged innocently and looked from Spock, who was watching Selik as well, to Jim. “Maybe I’ll still exist in your timeline someday.”

“I think everything is operational,” Selik said, standing, brushing nonexistent dust from his Starfleet blacks.

“Alright, then this is it.” Jim forced a smile. “And don’t forget to send us something confirming that you made it, alright?”

Selik nodded gravely. He looked to his sister. She held out her hand, and he grabbed it willingly. 

They walked together onto the transporter. Jim felt Spock move close enough to his side that he could feel the body heat radiating from the Vulcan. He sighed, trying to relieve the tension in his chest. 

“Wait, guys,” Jim said, feeling overwrought.

They both turned. Jim walked forward and pulled Amanda into a tight hug. “Be safe and be happy. And have a good life, okay?”

“Of course, Dad,” Amanda whispered softly. 

Jim turned to Selik and offered a _ta’al_. “You too, alright? I know I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but I’m so proud of you both.”

Selik mirrored the motion and nodded. “It has been gratifying…a personally rewarding experience to know you both.” He let a small smile onto that stoic face, and for a moment, he looked like Jim. “Stay out of trouble.”

Amanda and Selik took positions on the transporter. Amanda offered a weak smile, while Selik took a deep breath. 

Jim jumped in surprise when Spock’s hand folded around his.

McCoy was at the transporter console. “On your go, guys.”

“Live long and prosper,” Spock said from Jim’s side, his unoccupied hand forming a graceful _ta’al_.

Both children returned the action and sentiment, and Selik, with his hand still raised, said clearly, “Activate transporter.”

Jim swore that Spock’s grip on his hand grew tighter as the children faded from view. 

Jim let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “Well that’s that.”

“Yeah,” McCoy agreed from the console.

“I’m going to miss them a lot,” Jim said. “They were great.”

“Their presence was enlightening,” Spock agreed.

McCoy clapped his hand on Jim’s back and offered a supportive smile. “I’ll be in my office. Come by if you wanna talk.”

“Thanks, Bones.”

With McCoy gone, Jim let his head fall onto Spock’s shoulder. “What do we do now, Spock?”

“We continue our relationship, Jim.”

“But we met our kids. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“We are not required to procreate.”

“But I want _them_.”

“I know.”

“And what if we do something wrong and Amanda and Selik never exist in this timeline? What if we just go to the wrong place for them to be born or…?”

“ _Jim._ We must not let our actions be guided by this event. As someone from earth might say, we must live in the present.”

Jim chuckled softly. “I know.”

“Would you like to have breakfast with me, Jim?”

“Oh? Like a date?” Jim grinned at his Vulcan.

Spock ignored that comment. “I have observed that when you are in a negative mood sustenance alleviates your troubles.”

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“That is a disturbingly incorrect anatomical statement.”

“Sex also works.” Jim waggled his eyebrows.

Spock actually rolled his eyes and turned on his heel. He started to leave the transporter room.

“Spooock.” Jim hurried after him. “Don’t get huffy. Do I still get breakfast?”

When Jim grabbed Spock’s hand, the Vulcan didn’t pull away, even though they were in the hallway, so Jim knew he wasn’t actually angry. They walked together for a while, and Jim let go of Spock’s hand when they saw a crew member approaching. 

“Hey, Spock?” Jim said, when they got in the lift, heading toward the bridge.

“Yes, Captain?” Spock’s dark eyes met Jim’s. He looked particularly human today, and Jim knew that the children leaving affected him as well. 

“We make great kids.”

Spock was silent for a moment before the Vulcan nodded. “I have to agree with your assessment, Jim.”

Jim grinned to himself as the lift moved upward. Everything was going to be alright.


	16. Chapter 16

Selik felt nauseated as his molecules reassembled on the transporter pad. His arm reached out and grabbed for his sister. He used her shoulder to stabilize himself and took a deep breath.

She met his eyes and blinked a few times.

“I managed to stay upright this time.” He pointed out an obvious statement, but one he thought his sister might find humorous.

She did.

Amanda grinned at him. “You have had terrible luck with transporters these last few weeks.”

Selik moved over to the nearest console and started tapping. “It is 0400 ship time,” he said. “And the year…the current date is ninety-two days after we left.” He looked to Amanda.

She raised her eyebrows. “We weren’t actually gone that long.”

He shrugged. “This accidental time travel was exactly that: accidental. I do not have much in the way of scientific theory to explain the entire space-time mechanics.”

“The alarms aren’t going off this time.”

“Maybe father disabled them for our transport.” 

Amanda walked to the nearest communicator on the wall and pressed the buttons to dial into their parents’ room. “Transporter room to Captain’s quarters.”

“Afterhours access denied,” the computer chimed.

“Override code 912. Non-life-threatening emergency.”

“Override accepted.”

After a few seconds, a groggy voice spoke, “This is Captain Kirk.”

Amanda’s grin was impossibly wide as she said. “Hey dad.”

Shuffling could be heard through the intercom. “Amanda?” His voice was suddenly clear and laced with excitement. 

“I know it’s a bit late, but Selik and I thought a nice family get together would be fun right now.”

“Oh my God. Spock! Wake up!” More movement could be heard, and their dad’s voice was no longer directed into the intercom. “Amanda and Selik are back!” 

Their dad’s voice became louder again. “We’ll be there soon you guys.”

Then the intercom call ended. 

They did not wait long before both parents were bursting into the room. Selik’s heart skipped a beat. He found himself drinking in the sight of them, immediately noticing the slight differences that made _these_ men his parents. His dad had streaks of grey in the blonde hair around his temples and lines in the corners of his eyes. His father, who of course aged slower, had fewer signs of aging, but his eyes were somehow _softer_ and his posture more relaxed. 

Both of his dads looked utterly exhausted, but they both exhaled in a similar fashion as soon as they saw their children. Selik realized how terrible this must have been for them as well. 

Amanda only waited five seconds before she threw her arms around Spock, who only stiffened at the contact for a brief moment. Her face buried into his shoulder, and their father let his head rest on hers, so that their identical black hair mingled.

“I’m so sorry, _Sa’mekh_. I am so so sorry. And I love you.” Amanda’s voice cracked on all of her words as tears fell down her cheeks. 

Selik could feel, even with his less powerful telepathic abilities, as his sister and father’s parental bond snapped back into place. Their bond was easily the strongest of their family, simply due to the fact that they were both mostly physiologically Vulcan.

“I never doubted, _ko’fu_.” Their father’s voice was impossibly soft, and Selik was sure he had never heard such a tone from a Vulcan. “I apologize for making you feel inadequate. It was inexcusable.”

Amanda and Spock fell silent, although their hug did not end. 

Jim Kirk was watching the display of his husband and daughter with tears filling his vision. When his dad looked to him, Selik’s heart jumped again. 

“I missed you so much, Se.”

“I regretted…I missed you as well.” Selik let himself smile because he knew his dad would appreciate it. 

Jim grinned. “Can I…” He held up his hands at the level of Selik’s head. “Can we fix our bond too?” 

Selik nodded. As his dad placed his fingers in the appropriate psi-points, Selik let his own fingers find his dad’s face.

He did not really have to put any effort into replacing the bond. His bond centers, while less painful now, were far from healed, and when his mind met his dad’s, the bond clicked back into place like a puzzle piece.

Selik and Jim’s bond had always been less strong than the rest of their family, but no less precious to either of them. And although Selik rarely shared physical contact with his dad, he was relieved when the bond was back in place, feeling the slight hum of his dad’s consciousness. 

Their eyes met, ice blue to ice blue, and his dad started crying. “I’m going to hug you, Selik. Is that alright?”

Selik did not answer. For the first time since childhood, he pulled his dad into a hug. 

Jim Kirk huffed in surprise but did not say anything either. They just hugged, and Selik never enjoyed physical contact more in his life. 

“Thank God you two are in one piece,” McCoy’s voice came from the doorway. He sounded breathless. “I ran to get my tricorder…I left it in my office.”

Amanda pulled away from Spock and threw herself at Dr. McCoy, who didn’t have a chance to turn his tricorder on her. “Uncle Bones!”

Dr. McCoy sighed slightly and hugged her back. “We sure did miss you, sweetheart.”

When she pulled away, McCoy automatically turned on the tricorder. 

“Uncle Bones, don’t do that right now, please?” Amanda smiled innocently.

McCoy raised his eyebrows. “Is there something you need to tell us?”

“Well,” she hedged, clasping her hands behind her back—a nervous tick that she inherited from their father, “I may have had a bit of a run in with some…shrapnel with…uh…” She glanced at their father guiltily, “with the _other_ Commander Spock.”

Their father raised his eyebrows. 

Amanda lifted her shirt, showing off her angry green scar. “It looks way worst than it is,” she said quickly. 

“Jesus Christ, ‘Manda,” McCoy was already pressing buttons on the tricorder.

“You almost died, Amanda. It _is_ just as bad as it looks,” Selik corrected. “However, we are lucky that Doctor McCoy is just as skilled in the past as he is presently. She has been recovering for a while now.”

“Amanda…to get those sorts of injuries as a Vulcan…” Jim’s eyes were alarmed but soft. 

“I had to save him,” Amanda said, meeting all of their eyes defiantly. “We might have lost Spock and Selik. I would die before I let that happen.”

No one said anything, but McCoy was murmuring to himself as he stared at the tricorder. 

“Selik was hurt too. He almost died of blood loss!” Amanda pointed at him, obviously trying to deflect some of the attention. Selik sighed. 

“It’s okay,” their dad said softly. “You’re safe now. We aren’t mad. I’m so fucking happy that you’re both alive right now that I won’t be mad about pretty much anything for a few weeks at least, okay?”

Selik blinked at his dad’s curse.

Amanda nodded, starting to cry again. Their dad finally got a turn hugging Amanda as she pulled him in for a hug. 

Selik wanted to go to his father, to fix their bond, but he was not about to initiate a hug with him. Their father came over to him and nodded solemnly.

“I am glad you are well, _sa’fu_.”

Selik stood straighter, somehow feeling like he had slacked in the past few weeks. “I am sufficient.”

“Selik—” Their father frowned. “Do you feel pressured to act more Vulcan due to your Human physiology?”

“What?” Selik asked before he could stop the inane question.

“I have spent the weeks since your disappearance considering your sister’s claims that I am forcing Vulcan ways on her. And I came to the realization that I may have been doing the same to you.”

“You have never forced me into anything.”

“No. But parental pressure can be strong.”

“This is who I am.” Selik met his father’s dark eyes. “I adopted the ways of Surak because I wished to do so.”

Some of the tension drained from Spock’s shoulders, and Selik allowed himself to relax as well. He gave his father a small smile. 

Spock breathed deeply and nodded, his eyes conveying the smile that his face did not share. He reached his hand out to Selik’s temple, grazing it only slightly, and the parental bond blazed in Selik’s mind. He felt them all now, his family rooted in his consciousness just as he remembered. 

Relief and joy was flowing from his father, and Selik could not help but smile wider. Perhaps he had more Kirk in him that he realized. 

“This is all very touching,” McCoy said from the doorway. “But I have two patients that need full work-ups because they _travelled through time_ and who knows what the _hell_ that does to the body.”

“We’re fine, Bones, I swear.” Amanda gave him a bright grin. 

“Don’t care. Sick bay. _Now_.”

“ _Fiiiiine_ ,” Amanda groaned, but she was still smiling.

Although he had spent the last few weeks with her, Selik felt the need to stand nearer to her. So he went and bumped shoulder with her as they walked to the medical wing. She looked over at him and back at their parents whose eyes were glued to their children

“We are awesome,” she said.

Selik raised his eyebrows at her.

“We managed to survive _time travel_ , Se.”

“Yes.”

“We’re awesome,” she repeated, turning her head to look forward.

Selik looked from his sister to his fathers, the Human one grinning happily and the Vulcan one watching them with careful attention. 

“Yeah,” Selik agreed. “We are.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The room was dark, with only a small night-light casting a glow over the crib. James T. Kirk was sitting with his arms draped casually over the railing, watching the infants sleep below him. 

Twins. Of course, Jim had totally expected to get children wildly different from Amanda and Selik, those two kids that had been with them for only a short time, but had left some sort of indelible mark. After all, there are a million billion different ways that genes can combine into a person, and what were the chances of this time-line being the same as the other one?

But then the fertility clinic had called them one night in a tizzy. “Captain Kirk…we…this happens every so often but _two_ blastocysts managed to implant in the synthetic womb. Do you want us to do…”

“Just keep them both,” Jim had said quickly, his heart rate speeding up. “Just keep them both.”

So now Jim was staring at a boy and a girl. 

The boy’s hair was almost nonexistent at this point, just light whisps dusting his scalp. His eyes were bright blue, although that still could change. He cried a lot and was generally more expressive, grinning and smiling like most babies Jim had encountered.

Her hair was dark already, born with a thick head of hair, and her eyes were already rich chocolate. She rarely cried, aloud anyway, but Spock said she reached for him in his mind plenty often.

In other words, as the genetic counselor had told them, the boy was more physiologically Human, while the girl was about the same amount of Vulcan as Spock. 

Jim sighed. They both had those pointy ears though, and Jim smiled to himself every time he saw them. 

“Jim, are you alright?” Spock’s voice was low as he padded over to where Jim was sitting. 

“Yeah,” the blonde smiled softly. “I’m just watching them.”

“I did not sense any problems with either of them,” Spock offered. 

Jim was slightly jealous of the telepathic bond that Spock already had with their children, but they were too young to build up the bond with a Human parent yet, so Jim had to wait. 

“I didn’t really think there was anything wrong,” Jim shrugged. “I just wanted to watch them sleep.”

Spock’s eyes softened in the way they did only for him. “You need to sleep. If their current sleep pattern continues, they will awaken in another hour for sustenance. And you have hardly gotten any sleep since they arrived.”

Despite this bit of advice, Spock sat next to Jim, their shoulders touching. He let his gaze join his Captain’s. 

“I just like watching them. They’re so beautiful, Spock.”

Jim watched his Vulcan visibly melt a little while looking at the infants.

“They are…perfect, Jim.” Spock’s voice was soft and so, so Human. 

Jim let his head lean against the railing, slightly drifting but not letting his eyes shut. He could smell that soft baby smell, and he never thought he would find it so comforting.

“What should we call them?” Jim whispered, meeting Spock’s attentive gaze. 

The Vulcan sighed. “The naming ritual on New Vulcan will not be for another week.”

“Yeah, and I still don’t know what we should do.”

“We can name them anything we want. We have already met Amanda and Selik. While those children were genetically ours, there is no reason to impose those children on these.”

“Should we have Bones compare their genetics? See if they are identical?” Jim knew that Bones still had the records, but he was not sure if he really wanted to know.

“I do not believe that is necessary.”

Jim went back to looking at the children. He let his finger softly graze the girl’s ear, following it from lobe to pointed tip. She shifted a little in her sleep but continued her slumber. 

“I want her to have your mom’s name, Spock.” Jim smiled at tiny girl, thinking of all of the holovids he had seen of Amanda Grayson. “She’s got her eyes. And I can think of no better role model for her.”

Spock’s breath caught, and Jim knew that his _t’hy’la_ had to feel the same.

“And I was flipping through that _dumb_ baby book your dad gave us,” Jim said, smirking at Spock, who flushed.

It had been somewhat surprising, but also endlessly amusing, that Sarek had taken the news that Spock and Jim were going to reproduce quite well. In fact, he had handed off some of Spock’s old baby things that had been stored in their family’s old apartment on Earth, spared from Vulcan’s destruction. There wasn’t much: most had been on Vulcan, but there were a few old toys and a Vulcan baby-naming guide. Apparently Amanda Grayson had enjoyed physical copies of books and specifically requested this book back when she was pregnant with Spock. 

“Your mom had about seven girl names picked out for you. You were almost a T’Aloren, I’ll have you know,” Jim bumped Spock’s shoulder. “And did you know that of the _pages and pages_ of boy’s names, she had _two_ picked out: Spock and Selik.”

Spock was watching Jim’s face raptly. “She made notes?”

“Yeah. Not much. Mostly just underlined favorites.” Jim shrugged. “But I mean, I’m not going to name him George. Even my dad hated George. Plus we need to represent the Vulcan in him. Because look at those baby blues, he’s all me.”

The boy started fussing, as if to underline his Kirk-ish ways. Spock reached out almost immediately and lifted the child, pulling him into a gentle cradle. Jim watched Spock with the baby, hardly even believing how _loving_ the Vulcan could be with children.

“Selik,” Spock said tentatively, letting a finger gently run down the little boy’s forehead. 

“It’s a good name.” Jim smiled. “We just have to love them, Spock, raise them as best we can. If they end up being the same as the kids we met, fine. If not, that’s all right too. I will be the luckiest man alive either way.”

“Luck,” Spock brought his head closer to Selik’s ear, whispering gently to his son, “is illogical.”

“You’re influencing him!” Jim accused in a whisper, giving his husband a half-hearted glare.

Spock glanced at him, his eyes lit with amusement. “I will share the same wisdom with Amanda later.”

“You know what’s better than logic, Amanda?” Jim looked down at her; she was reaching toward the spot where Selik had been only moments before, tiny fingers making grasping motions at the air. “Ice cream and French fries.” 

“Jim,” Spock looked at the ceiling in exasperation. He was rocking slightly, which was odd to see in a Vulcan, but Selik had liked being rocked since the day they brought him home. “That has absolutely no relation to the topic at hand.”

“Exactly,” Jim agreed.

Spock sighed and shook his head. He gently replaced Selik in the crib, closer to Amanda than he had been before. Her grabbing ceased once her fingers bumped with her brother’s shoulder.

“They sense each other?” Jim looked up at Spock, who was watching them as well.

“Even Human twins have such awareness of one another. In Vulcan twins, it is magnified by the telepathic bond they have shared from the first moment the telepathic portions of their brains began making electrical impulses.”

“They’re going to be hell to raise. Vulcan twins who are also Kirks? Terrifying.”

“I agree.” Spock held out a hand for Jim. “Which is why we should rest whenever we can.”

Jim pulled himself up with Spock’s help and wove their fingers together. “And keep them away from transporters. Forever.” 

Spock squeezed his hand tighter. 

Jim grinned and glanced over at his Vulcan. “I’m really, really happy, Spock.”

“Me too, Jim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end of the line! Thank you to everyone who stuck around and read my story. You're all the best!! :)


End file.
